


Running With Wolves

by Amethystina



Series: The Thunder Moon Chronicles [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bromance, Canon-Typical Violence, Feels, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash (eventual slash), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 02:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 83,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethystina/pseuds/Amethystina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the invading pack grows more violent and ruthless it becomes obvious that no one in Beacon Hills is safe. The stakes are raised higher and even with new allies and a firm plan Stiles isn't sure if they'll be able to hold them off much longer.</p><p>That isn't helped in the least by Stiles' racing heartbeats and those fluttering butterflies that might or might not be connected to Derek, even if Stiles tries his best to deny it. Because there's just no way that's ever going to happen, even if he might want it to. The broody alpha would never be interested in something like that.</p><p>Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Guard

**Author's Note:**

> So here we go! Next part of the Thunder Moon Chronicles! With lots of feels, action, some angst and growing sexual tension. Just the way we like it.
> 
> I hope that you will enjoy it as much as the first part!
> 
> [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) is still my very reliable beta and you can find me over at my [Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/) if you have any questions! Cheers!

 

* * *

 

Stiles was getting used to waking up in uncomfortable hospital chairs – which said a thing or two about how bad things really were in Beacon Hills. The only strange thing with it was that Stiles himself had never been the one who was hurt, despite being a frail human in the line of fire. Or perhaps he was just that darn good.

He had a kink in his neck and groaned pathetically when it sent a sharp lash of pain down his spine. His left leg was asleep and the armrest of the chair was digging into his ribs. He had definitely had better mornings. After a wide yawn he rubbed his eyes and tried to blink away the bleariness, gaining his bearings slowly but surely.

The first thing he noticed was that it had to be pretty early judging on the lack of other people or general sounds that usually accompanied the busier hours at the hospital. The second was that his body felt prickly and itchy, as if it was desperate to move and would launch into a complete spazout if he didn't obey that tickling sensation very soon. It could either be from his uncomfortable sleeping arrangement or the lack of Adderall the other day, he wasn't quite sure. The third was that he was surrounded by black leather that decidedly did not belong to him.

Stiles was suddenly wide awake.

Derek's jacket had slipped off one of Stiles' shoulders when he had first woken up but he must have been clutching it quite closely before that. It was a warm, comforting weight on his shoulders and after some hesitation Stiles hiked it up higher and wrapped it tighter around himself. He wasn't cold per se but it was a rather comfortable jacket. That was all there was to it. And Stiles was not blushing. Shut up.

He took a deep breath before leaning his head backwards, staring up at the ceiling and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his neck. Stiles could hardly believe that it had only been a day since his dad came to the hospital. It felt like a week. He chewed on his bottom lip, contemplating whether sneaking into his father's room would be a good idea or not.

Mrs. McCall wouldn't be back at the hospital for a while yet and she was the one who was most likely to check up on him and catch him in the act if he tried. She was, on the other hand, also the one who would bail him out if someone else caught him so to do it while she wasn't around probably wasn't the best idea.

Stiles closed his eyes with a sigh and sank deeper into his chair. His leg was twitching spastically and he kept clenching and unclenching his hands around the soft leather underneath his fingertips. Things had taken a rather strange turn the past week. Stiles had gone from trying his best to banish Derek from his thoughts to cuddling his borrowed jacket.

A squirming sensation – nervous and strangely delighted – made itself known in Stiles' stomach. He ignored it. There were bigger issues at hand than the newest development in Stiles' relationship to Derek's clothes. They were a pack now, for better or worse. It still felt incredibly surreal and if it wasn't for the fact that Stiles had Derek's jacket as a reminder he would have thought that everything from the past day hadn't happened. But it had. It really had.

A grin spread on Stiles' lips and he fought the urge to whoop – just because he could. They were a pack now. He knew that things still wouldn't be easy – just the mere thought of the negotiations between the hunters and werewolves was enough to make him shiver in dread - but they were closer to a solution. If they could just work together they might actually be able to make some progress.

After a pleased sigh Stiles heaved himself up on his feet, limping pathetically to force the circulation back into his legs. He had to grit his teeth against the pricking and stinging his left leg submitted him to until it finally began to function properly again. He paced back and forth a couple of times, rolling his neck in an attempt to soften the kink as well as he could. It felt odd to slip the jacket on fully – in order to be able to stretch his arms without having it fall off his shoulders – and Stiles couldn't help staring down at himself.

He looked ridiculous with a badass leather jacket on top of his sloppy t-shirt and shorts. Derek's jacket was definitely a little too big for Stiles, hanging oddly and stiffly on his shoulders, but it wasn't all too long in the sleeves – probably because Derek wasn't that much taller than him, just slightly broader and heavier. Stiles looked down at his arms with an absent kind of fascination, not really knowing what to do with the fact that he was wearing Derek's leather jacket. It felt surreal – almost even more so than the emotional rollercoaster Stiles had been through yesterday. Derek being considerate was just somehow less likely than his father getting hurt, Scott being heroic and everybody banding together to fight evil. It was sad but true.

Stiles' curiosity got the better of him as he let his hands sink into the pockets of Derek's jacket, just to see if the alpha had something in them. To his infinite disappointment there was nothing there to find – not even lint. Stiles would actually have been rather interested in seeing what Derek hid in his pockets, even if it was just old receipts or a package of gum or whatever.

Derek clearly denied him this pleasure however and Stiles sank back into the hospital chair with a bored huff. The alpha was all too fond of being mysterious but Stiles had begun to realize that no real person could be as elusive as Derek pretended to be. Not when you actually started paying some attention to it all – which Stiles had these last couple of days.

Stiles wanted to laugh at his own misconceptions. A part of him had almost been prepared to believe that Derek didn't need to eat, just because he had never seen the alpha do it – which was preposterous. Of course Derek ate, slept, showered and went grocery shopping like everyone else. Stiles couldn't for the life of him _imagine_ Derek doing all of those things but that didn't mean that he didn't do them. Heck, Derek even found the time and effort to style his hair for heaven's sake, as well as plowing through an exceedingly huge wardrobe.

Derek wasn't nearly as much of a savage as he let people believe, which was also why Stiles refused to accept that Derek was actually living at the old Hale house or the train depot. Derek seemed fine with people assuming that he did but it was obvious that he lived somewhere else, where one could find running water, food and stash all those clothes.

And since when was Stiles so interested in Derek's personal life?

Stiles harrumphed and crossed his arms over his chest – much like a sullen child – and resolutely decided to think about something else than Derek. Anything but Derek really.

It became increasingly easy when the hospital slowly began to wake up around him. A hospital never really slept but sometimes the activity lulled down to something that at least resembled calm – a calm it was now waking up from. Stiles didn't mind the distractions since it allowed him to focus on something else than the recent developments. He found it rather soothing to just watch the nurses, doctors and occasional patient or visitor walk by. It made him look suitably creepy but he found that he didn't really care. It was better than spending his time worrying about what was to come next.

Stiles took another moment to pace back and forth and gave the nurse who came to check on his dad what he at least hoped was an innocent looking smile. He didn't feel particularly innocent though considering how he sneaked into his father's room the moment she had disappeared down the corridor, probably on her way to another patient. Stiles figured that it would take the nurses and doctors a while before they came to check on his dad again so it was safe enough for a visit.

Just like before it felt like a punch to the gut to see his father lying unconscious and frail in the hospital bed. Stiles swallowed before inching closer. The silence in the room was eerie, especially since it was interrupted only by the mechanical hum and blips from various machines that Stiles both feared and wanted to poke at, just out of curiosity. He never would though – he knew better than that. Stiles wasn't really sure where to look so in the end he just stood there, on the middle of the floor, staring down at his hands as they fingered the edge of the borrowed leather jacket.

It was difficult to keep his breathing in check.

It was impossible to tell how much time he ended up spending in his dad's hospital room but like before he remained silent the entire time. He still didn't know what to say. He did dare to brush his fingers against his dad's arm though, just to reassure himself and make sure that his dad's skin wasn't cold. Not like Stiles' mom had been.

Stiles took a deep breath and a step backwards, as if trying to distance himself from the thought. His dad wasn't dying. He would probably wake up any minute now. Stiles just had to wait a little longer. Things would be fine.

Stiles wasn't even aware of how he shrunk into himself, shoulders raised and arms wrapped tightly around his own waist, until his nose was buried in the collar of Derek's jacket. It startled him out of his own misery and a crooked smile spread on his lips. He had completely forgotten that he was still wearing it. Which, on the other hand, reminded him that he should probably get out of it soon. He didn't want to be parading around in Derek's jacket when Scott came to give him clothes and his Adderall. Definitely not a discussion Stiles wanted to have with his best friend. Ever.

Mostly because Stiles was just as confused as Scott would be and he had no answers to give. Derek hadn't given him any. So it was probably for the best to hide the jacket for now, or at least not wear it as if Stiles thought that he had the right to. He was pretty certain that he didn't, considering what odd signals it might send. Signals Stiles tried his best not to consider further.

It was a shame really and Stiles shivered the moment the jacket slipped from his shoulders, but it was for the best. After some hesitation Stiles folded it – trying to make it look as inconspicuous as possible – before placing it on the visitor's chair that stood off in the corner in his dad's hospital room. Scott wasn't likely to come in there so it was probably the safest place to store it for now. Stiles had no idea when Derek might show so that he could return it so this would have to do for the time being.

Stiles was infinitely glad for his foresight since he barely had time to return to his designated chair out in the hallway before Isaac popped up out of nowhere. Or at least that was how it felt for Stiles who flinched violently and nearly tumbled out of said chair in surprise when Isaac sat down next to him. Stiles hadn't even seen him coming. If Isaac's cheeky, playful grin was anything to go by that had been the idea.

Stiles gave Isaac a particularly nasty glare.

"You are a naughty puppy."

Isaac snorted before leaning back in his chair, looking casual and confident for all the world to see. It wasn't the harsh, feral confidence he had had a while back though, that threatened to snap at a moment's notice, but something softer. Something more at ease. Stiles liked it.

"I have to enjoy the little things," Isaac replied with a shrug and Stiles couldn't really argue with that, even if he wanted to.

A silence settled between them and Stiles scratched behind his ear, just a tad bit awkward. Isaac didn't seem inclined to explain his presence and instead just sat there, seemingly completely content. It made Stiles nervous and reminded him all too much of Derek the night before. Perhaps it was a werewolf thing?

"Not that I'm not pleased to see you and your sharp teeth but what are you really doing here?"

Isaac tilted his head to the side and gave Stiles a patient and surprisingly gentle smile.

"I'm pretty sure you already know the answer to that."

"Ah," Stiles replied succinctly, "you're standing guard."

Isaac nodded softly.

"There will always be someone here, making sure that your dad is safe."

Stiles felt a lump lodge in his throat but he was able to swallow it with some effort.

"Thanks..."

"Don't thank _me_ – alpha's orders."

Oh. Of course. That was reasonable. Was that what Derek had been doing last night? Standing guard while Stiles slept wrapped in his leather jacket? Wow. Was Stiles blushing? It felt like he was but he couldn't be quite sure and he wasn't going to ask Isaac to check for him. Stiles chose to gnaw on his own bottom lip instead. It helped him think. A little.

"Do you seriously think that someone will try to hurt my dad again?" Stiles blurted out, just to fill the silence and divert his careening thoughts from less important matters. Stay on one track. That was always good.

"I don't know." Isaac frowned, staring at the opposite wall as if it would be able to offer him some answers. "I wouldn't if I were them. Wouldn't give them much, you know, considering how much effort they would have to go through to do it."

"Yeah, breaking into a hospital and all..." Stiles followed Isaac's example of staring off into space but he chose the ceiling as his main target. "They probably won't do it."

That left the question why they even bothered to set out a guard but Stiles wasn't going to say that out loud. He wanted someone to be there, just in case.

It was also pretty nice to just talk to someone, even if the subject wasn't very uplifting. Isaac's calm still managed to be soothing in a way that not even Scott could pull off. Stiles loved Scott – heroics and all – but he had a tendency to worry. A lot. Which was normally as flattering as it was annoying. Isaac seemed to find some sort of middle ground where he was there to give support and talk but without being emotional enough to be suffocating. Isaac was a mix between Scott and Derek, in other words, and Stiles couldn't have asked for someone better to start his morning with.

Stiles soon pulled Isaac into whatever discussion he could manage and while it was a little stilted and awkward from time to time – not at all as effortlessly as Scott managed to charm people – it filled the silence just fine. And Stiles got to see small peeks of the real person behind those curls and angelic face. Isaac was surprisingly complex in his views and opinions, in ways Stiles hadn't even thought was possible.

The mere fact that Isaac mentioned one or two memories from his childhood with a wide, pleased smile on his lips completely baffled Stiles. He had been certain that Isaac had been suffering at the hands of his father for a long time and that even the good memories would be overshadowed by that, but that was not the case. Despite his surprise Stiles didn't push the subject or ask about it since it didn't quite feel like his place to do so. And besides, he wasn't exactly up for a heartfelt discussion about parents considering the reason they were at the hospital in the first place.

Stiles was so not going there.

When Scott arrived with Stiles' clothes, medication and breakfast he didn't seem surprised to see Isaac there and instead jumped straight into the conversation with that unbelievable enthusiasm of his. He did give Stiles a questioning look though, as if to ask if he was alright, and gracefully let it go after Stiles' reassuring nod. Stiles felt the stiffness in his shoulders ease. While he appreciated the concern he treasured the trust and lack of coddling even more. Scott knew that Stiles could handle himself.

After Stiles' quick visit to the bathroom to change clothes and pop some Adderall the three of them settled down for a noisy and heated discussion about lacrosse while Stiles ate breakfast. Isaac and Scott stole their fair share of the sandwiches Scott had brought – no doubt courtesy of Mrs. McCall – but Stiles didn't have the heart to complain. It all felt so good. He felt warm to the core watching Scott's wild gestures as he talked and Isaac's wide, happy grin. It was awesome.

Eventually Scott had to head back to the clinic – if nothing else because Deaton had hinted that he might have found something that could help them against the other pack – and both Stiles and Isaac were sad to see him go. Before he left Scott gave Stiles a beaming smile, one that oozed affection, comfort and above all else support, and for the first time in a long time Stiles found that his responding grin was completely honest and not the least bit forced. Scott was finally back and Stiles kept from clinging to him only because Scott really had to go. Stiles' heart soared.

When Erica came two hours later to relieve Isaac he ended up staying for another hour as the three of them got pulled into a discussion about music, of all things. Stiles had spent so much time only hanging out with Scott that he had almost forgotten what it was like to speak to other people on other subjects than school and homework. It was odd but not unwelcome and Stiles found himself buzzing with enthusiasm, even when Isaac had to leave and there was only Erica left.

They spent their time playing games on each other's phones, trying to beat their high scores while exchanging various teasing remarks and playful banter. Erica was gorgeous when she laughed that bright, honest laugh of hers and Stiles couldn't help wondering _why_ it couldn't be her. She was funny, beautiful, interesting and downright perfect, but he felt nothing stir as he looked at her. Well, that wasn't _entirely_ true since he was a healthy teenage boy, but it wasn't anything profound. Nothing he wanted to act on.

Still, she was an awesome friend and his cheeks were beginning to ache with how much he was grinning and smiling and his chest was about ready to burst from happiness. He was so glad that he was able to have this. He was so thankful that she liked him as much as she seemed to do.

The only bump in his otherwise awesome day came when his father finally woke up.

That in itself was of course a good thing and the relief that flooded through Stiles was downright exhausting, but to once again stand by his father's bedside was painful. So incredibly painful. Even more so when his dad could actually open his eyes and look back.

Stiles had to bite the inside of his cheek not to start babbling about useless things – reassurances, apologies, basically anything that would make things better – while his father smiled weakly at him. It was clear that his dad was still drugged up and in pain, but he was definitely lucid enough to know where he was and what had happened.

He looked so pale against the white sheets and even if the oxygen mask had been removed there were still too many machines around to make Stiles able to relax. Erica was waiting outside, politely remaining out of sight even if Stiles knew that she could hear everything, like Stiles' fluttering, painful heartbeats and his dad's rasping, agonized breaths.

"Hi, Dad," Stiles whispered softly, so afraid to speak too loudly that it was almost too weak instead.

His dad's smile remained surprisingly strong despite the sadness in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Stiles," his dad croaked and Stiles felt his chest clench. His throat was suddenly dry and raw while his eyes seemed to burn.

"No-..." Stiles cleared his throat, trying to push back the broken cracks in his voice. "It's okay, Dad. I know that-... it's your job. You were just doing your job."

His dad shook his head and when he opened his hand Stiles didn't hesitate to take it. His fingers shook but enveloped by his father's comforting hand it almost felt okay. Or it would have if the grip hadn't been so much weaker than usual.

"It's not okay." His dad's voice was gaining strength and conviction. "You shouldn't have to see this."

Stiles chuckled but the sound got stuck in his throat and sounded more like a choked gasp. He had to blink a couple of times, his gaze flickering from the ceiling to the floor, to their clutching hands. He squeezed a little tighter while running his tongue over his bottom lip, desperately fighting an urge to fidget or jump restlessly from one foot to the other.

"Yeah, probably not," he whispered softly, feeling his dad's grip around his fingers tighten. "Just make sure to get better, okay?"

His dad would probably have tried to laugh if it hadn't been for the broken ribs. Stiles could still appreciate the slight spark in his eyes – the one that told him that his dad was going to be just fine. A Stilinski wouldn't give up this easily.

Stiles swallowed harshly and before he had time to reconsider his decision he leaned forward, hiding his face against his father's neck. He was mindful of the bandages and wounds but he just had to get a little closer. He didn't dare to hug him completely due to his dad's broken ribs but this was better than nothing.

His dad smelled odd – like hospital and starched sheets – but Stiles ignored it. The warmth was the same and when his dad placed his free hand at the back of Stiles' neck he couldn't stifle a small sob. His shoulders shook from the effort of keeping the tears at bay but as soon as his dad began hushing him softly – brokenly and worried – it all burst forth anyway. It wasn't a panic attack, Stiles could feel the difference, but the tears were the same. And he just couldn't stop.

He didn't know for how long he cried but his dad suffered through it, rubbing Stiles' neck despite how much moving had to hurt considering his ribs. Stiles was squeezing his dad's hand too hard but there were no complaints. Just soft whispers of comfort.

Stiles was eventually able to calm down and straighten, his movements stiff and dull. His mouth was dry, his head was pounding and he had a clogged nose. He felt awful.

"Fuck... this sucks," he muttered.

"Language," his dad shot back, weaker than usual but the word itself – the familiarity and the affection hidden behind it – was enough to make Stiles' smile despite his puffy, red rimmed eyes.

"Yeah, yeah..." Stiles cleared his throat and wiped away the remaining tears with the sleeve of his hoodie, secretly wishing that Mrs. McCall could have been there to offer him another tissue in that magic way of hers.

"How are you holding up?" his dad asked with a slight tired slur to his words. Stiles figured that he wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer, still sleepy from all the drugs and pain.

"Good," Stiles replied, squeezing his dad's hand. "Mrs. McCall's been watching over me, I guess you could say... and Scott's been a real help. He brought me clothes."

A frown settled on his dad's forehead.

"Don't tell me that you slept at the hospital."

Stiles mouth fell open and he gaped uselessly for a moment or two, not wanting to lie per se but telling the truth wasn't much better. His dad groaned.

"Stiles, promise me to sleep in a real bed tonight."

"No, it's fine, really! I'm used to it," Stiles objected but his dad only looked disapproving.

"That does not exactly speak in your favor, son."

Stiles rolled his eyes and sniffed in a vain attempt to do something about his clogged nose.

"It's not that bad, I mean-"

"No, Stiles. You can't live at the hospital."

The unspoken, painful 'not again' hung in the air between them, making Stiles' chest ache. But this wasn't like when his mom died. His dad was going to recover. He wanted to say as much but his dad continued before he had the time to do so.

"I'll talk to Melissa. And she'll talk to Scott. I'm sure you can sleep at their house."

Sometimes Stiles forgot that his dad knew him so well. Stiles didn't want to go back to their own house and lie there in his bed, with the pressing silence all around him, worrying about his dad. Stiles didn't want to be alone. Still, Stiles felt a need to object. He wanted to stay close, just in case something happened, but when he saw the look in his father's eyes – the determined but worried look – he swallowed his complaints and nodded weakly.

"Fine. I'll sleep at Scott's."

His dad smiled.

"Thank you."

Stiles didn't know what to answer so he just smiled softly and squeezed his dad's hand again. It was obvious that his dad was inches from falling back asleep and Stiles had no intention of keeping him from that. He needed to rest. The nurses had made sure that his dad was as comfortable as he could get even before Stiles' had stepped into the room so now Stiles just watched how his dad's eyelids fluttered close and his breathing evened out. Stiles was still smiling even if it had taken on a slightly pained hint.

There was still a lot they needed to talk about – like what his dad had seen when he was attacked – but this was clearly not the time. If nothing else because Stiles felt completely drained. He was shaking again but at least his eyes were dry. He probably looked like hell but he had a right to, considering the circumstances.

He still felt pretty awkward when he sneaked back out from his dad's room and found Erica sitting in the chair next to the one Stiles had claimed as his. She looked up at him, eyes wide and sad, but said nothing. Stiles wasn't sure if he was grateful or worried by it and stiffly sat down next to her.

He didn't want to leave his dad alone, not really, but a part of him knew that he needed some time to breathe. He would probably get to spend more time in there now that his dad was awake – he would insist on it as a matter of fact – but for now he felt better out there with Erica.

Stiles almost jumped when he felt something bump against his shoulder, only to realize that it was Erica snuggling up against him. He turned his head, only to get a nose full of blond curls that smelled like peaches and vanilla, and he kept from sneezing only because it would have been incredibly rude not to. He still stiffened a little though, unsure of what to do. The last time they had all cuddled up to him he had been too focused on his grief and worry to really notice but now was a bit different.

"Just relax, Stiles," Erica murmured, voice soothing. "I don't bite."

Stiles snorted, unable to help himself.

"Somehow I doubt that."

Erica chuckled and snuggled closer, apparently getting quite comfortable against Stiles' shoulder, and it was probably then that Stiles realized for certain that he would never feel anything romantic towards Erica, sad as that might be. She was still a warm, comforting weight against his side though and Stiles relished in the closeness.

"It will be alright, Stiles. We'll manage," she whispered, almost as if to encourage herself as well.

Stiles took a deep breath and grinned.

"Yeah, we will."

He'd see to that if nothing else.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to showing you what is to come. It's going to be awesome!
> 
> WHOOP!


	2. Truth

 

* * *

 

Stiles felt his jaw crack when he yawned widely, sitting in the passenger seat of the McCall car. Scott was driving and it felt horribly unnatural to be on the other end of this. Stiles was usually the one who drove them everywhere, but without his Jeep it would admittedly have been a little odd for him to be sitting behind the wheels. His Jeep still stood parked back at his house so he had kindly accepted Scott's offer to drive him to the hospital.

Like promised Stiles had spent the night at the McCall house – something that had made Scott a very happy puppy – but not even that had kept him from worrying. Stiles knew that someone from the pack was there to watch over his dad – because he had been promised that someone would – but it was different when he wasn't there himself to make sure that they did. But his dad was fine. Stiles had to believe that.

Stiles took a deep breath and sunk lower in his seat, leisurely watching the houses pass by outside the car window. After Erica Boyd had come to stand guard and while the first hour had been the most awkward Stiles could remember ever having passed between them he had eventually managed to rope Boyd into a conversation about books. Stiles didn't know if Boyd even _liked_ to read but it was something to talk about in order to avoid the suffocating silence and that was the goal of it all. Even Boyd seemed to have preferred the conversation over the pressing silence.

Stiles had briefly had time to wonder if Jackson was going to show too – and fear it because that would undoubtedly lead to death and murder somehow – but Scott was the one who came to relieve Boyd, bringing dinner as well. By then Stiles and Scott had moved into his dad's room instead, talking in low voices not to disturb his father's rest.

Every now and then Stiles had looked over to the hospital bed and seen his dad smile at them, eyes tired but pleased, but they hadn't really talked. His dad had seemed completely content with just listening to Stiles and Scott blabbering away. Stiles had been secretly grateful for that. He still feared the inevitable conversation where he had to find out if his dad now knew about werewolves.

Stiles had been worried about Scott finding Derek's folded jacket but after a simple glance, a confused frown and a noncommittal shrug Scott seemed to have dropped it. He must have realized who it belonged to but not why it was there and Stiles had been forced to bite his own tongue to keep himself from talking about it. Derek hadn't come by again – not that Stiles had really thought that he would – but he was still curious and a little fidgety about the whole thing. He wanted to know why Derek had lent him his jacket. But he knew better than to talk about that in front of his dad, who was awake more often than not the longer the day progressed.

Everything had felt so much better and easier when Stiles' dad was awake, growing more alert for each hour that passed. Mrs. McCall had dropped by every now and then too, checking up on Stiles' dad and making sure that the boys were behaving. It was strangely comforting somehow.

When it was time for Stiles and Scott to leave his dad had almost seemed to be at his normal strength. There were tired lines around his dad's eyes, sure, and bruises and bandages here and there – not to mention the cast on his leg – but he had looked good, considering. Stiles had been so relieved.

Now that he was heading back he dreaded what would await him. He nibbled on his bottom lip and wasn't aware that he was fiddling with all the buttons and knobs on the dashboard until Scott gave him a confused and worried look. Stiles forced his hands back to his lap and cleared his throat.

"I have to ask him what he remembers," he said, as if that would explain everything. Strangely enough it did.

"Ah..." Scott frowned softly. "You think he saw enough to... know?"

It was obvious that Scott was talking about werewolves. Stiles took a deep breath and shrugged.

"I have no idea. Your mom said that some of the officers had seen something but they refused to believe that it was human. It might be the same with my dad."

A heavy silence fell in the car, Scott keeping his eyes on the road as he drove them towards the hospital.

"And if he doesn't? If he has no idea about werewolves? Will you tell him?" Scott asked, voice soft, as if he didn't want to push Stiles.

"I... honestly don't know," Stiles replied truthfully with a sigh, gnawing restlessly on his thumbnail.

A part of him wanted to but Stiles hadn't lied when he had told Derek that he didn't want to be the one to explain it all to his dad. Partly because he doubted that his dad would believe him without proof and Stiles didn't exactly have any, but even more so because it would lead to so many other questions. Like why Stiles hadn't told him sooner. Stiles didn't know if he had an answer to that.

"Well, one step at a time," Scott said, voice firm and determined. Stiles couldn't help turning towards him with a smile.

"Look at you. Sounding all grown up and dependable," Stiles teased, which earned him an insulted huff and a grin from Scott.

"Just watch me. I've grown a lot."

A genuine, soft smile spread on Stiles' lips. He knew that he was being incredibly sentimental and mushy, but he just couldn't help it.

"Yeah, you really have."

Scott seemed taken aback by the sincerity in Stiles' words and stared in surprise for a moment or two, until Stiles slapped him on the arm and pointed towards the road.

"Don't crash the car, Cujo."

Scott chuckled and looked back at the road but there was no mistaking the pleased, almost shy, smile that lingered. It made Stiles' insides warm to see Scott so happy.

"So, did Derek tell everyone about the alliance with the hunters?" Stiles asked, knowing that he might have been a tad bit forgetful on that point the other day. He wasn't sure if it was his job to tell everyone but they definitely needed to be informed about it.

To his surprise Scott looked almost guilty.

"Uh... I think so. It was Allison who told me though."

The sting of dread that Stiles expected to feel at that was nothing more than a small prick. Huh. Perhaps he was growing up as well. Or perhaps he was more certain that Scott wouldn't abandon him for Allison this time. Either way it was a development that Stiles approved of wholeheartedly. It meant that he was able to grin widely at his friend, just like he had when the whole romance between the young werewolf and beautiful huntress had started. Stiles really did want to see both of them happy.

"That's my boy. So the two of you are working things out?"

Scott took a deep, shuddering breath and his smile was a little nervous, but he looked hopeful. That was a good sign.

"I think so, yeah. It's... tense and a little awkward but we're getting there. I-... told her about the pack thing too." Scott seemed to hesitate, looking lost and confused, "She wasn't happy but I think she realized that it was for the best, considering what's happened to your dad. She's really sorry – and worried."

It was suddenly a little difficult to breathe but Stiles fought it back and smiled weakly.

"Yeah, I know. Mr. Argent said as much. Tell her thanks, whenever you speak to her again."

Scott tried to look reassuring but it was obvious that both of them had heavy things weighting on their minds. Stiles took a deep breath.

"You'll do fine, Scott. You and Allison, I mean. You both deserve some happiness." And that was the complete truth. Stiles would do his best to see it happen.

"Thanks man," Scott mumbled, a little shyly, which made Stiles grin widely. He let the subject go though, partly because there wasn't much else to say unless he wanted specific details – which he usually did but he couldn't afford that luxury at the moment – and they were arriving at the hospital.

Scott parked outside the entrance and gave Stiles a thoughtful, worried look.

"You want me to come with you? Deaton said that I could get some days off if I wanted to."

Stiles shook his head.

"Nah. It's okay. I wouldn't mind if you stopped by after work though, if you can?" he asked while rubbing his neck, probably looking more than a little awkward.

"Of course," Scott replied, all beaming and reassuring smiles. It actually did a lot to calm Stiles' nerves.

He had to talk to his dad about what he had seen when he was attacked. Stiles didn't want to but the longer he waited the more damage he might do. He knew that having Scott in the room might help if he wanted to prove to his dad that werewolves really existed but he wasn't sure if he wanted Scott to witness that conversation. It wouldn't be a pretty one, even if his dad _didn't_ remember.

"You let me know if Deaton finds anything, okay?" Stiles said while climbing out of the car and leaning back down to look at Scott once he was standing outside. Scott nodded.

"He said something about wards and mountain ash yesterday but it didn't make much sense to me. He said that he would let us all know when he had something solid though, so you can come along then."

"Yeah, sounds good. See you." Stiles took a step back and closed the car door before waving Scott off. A slight smile lingered on his lips as he watched the car drive away but it fell the moment he turned towards the hospital. He dreaded going inside. He hated seeing his dad hurt and he knew what he had to do once he got there.

He let out a long, steady breath before he kicked himself into gear and headed inside. There were quite a few people milling about and Stiles gave the nurses he recognized a smile in greeting as he made his way towards his dad's room. He wasn't afraid to enter this time but hesitated briefly none the less, just to gather his courage.

As soon as he opened the door and took the first step inside he realized that something was wrong. Stiles only had to glance at his father's face and the somewhat troubled set of his shoulders to know that his dad knew. Stiles froze in the doorway, staring at his dad, throat dry and fingers clenched almost painfully around the door handle. He didn't know what had changed because his dad hadn't seemed the least bit informed the night before, but there was no mistaking the look he gave Stiles now.

"Come in and close the door, Stiles." His dad sounded tired and a little hurt but not angry. Stiles didn't know how to interpret that but he swallowed and did as his father asked.

He immediately started fidgeting the moment his hands were free but he forced himself to look his dad in the eye. They both deserved that much. His dad sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, looking both defeated and relieved somehow.

"I can admit that I didn't see this coming," his dad said with a weak smile, but it offered no real comfort. Stiles took a deep breath as if to answer but he couldn't find the words and just let it all out in one short exhale instead, close to a sigh.

What could he really say? That he was sorry? That he wanted to tell him but didn't know how? That he was afraid of how his dad would react? All of it was true but that didn't make it any easier to form the words. In the end he settled for something a little safer – something not loaded with emotions and betrayal.

"How much do you know?"

It was a relevant question considering that even if his dad had seen who attacked him and accepted them as otherworldly it wasn't certain that he knew that they were werewolves. Or what connection they had to all of the shit that had been happening around Beacon Hills for months.

"Everything," his dad replied and Stiles couldn't help blinking and staring at him in confusion. His dad couldn't possibly know _everything_ after a brief brush with werewolves but the little quirk of his dad's lips told Stiles that yes, he did. "Or at least as much as Derek Hale decided to tell me."

Stiles was momentarily stunned. Luckily enough his mouth seemed to be able to work around his brains momentary malfunction.

"Whu-... wait what? Derek?" Stiles couldn't believe what he was hearing. " _Derek_ told you?"

His dad nodded with a thoughtful but slightly amused expression on his face.

"He's a very odd young man." Well, Stiles wasn't going to argue with that. "He came here last night, said something about it being time that I knew about this what with being the sheriff and all. I got the feeling that there was something else behind it as well but I was honestly too caught up on the fact that werewolves exist to ask about it."

Stiles threw a glance towards the chair in the corner of his dad's room and sure enough, there was no leather jacket lying there anymore. Derek must have taken it with him when he left.

Stiles walked closer to his dad's bed, not really knowing what to do with himself. Derek had told his dad about werewolves. Derek had sneaked into his father's room the previous evening and explained about werewolves, not long after Stiles had whined about not wanting to do it himself. The alpha was either being a complete control freak who wanted to regulate what Stiles' dad knew or he had actually been incredibly considerate and done something just to make sure that Stiles didn't have to.

One month ago Stiles wouldn't have thought that the second option was even possible but considering the past week it was almost the most reasonable one. Derek had told Stiles' dad about werewolves so that Stiles wouldn't have to. It was mind warping to try and grasp the sheer improbability of that concept. Derek had done something nice, without prompting or nagging. It made Stiles feel all kinds of flustered.

"Why didn't you tell me, Stiles?"

His dad's voice snapped him back to attention and he had to struggle with his answer for a moment.

"Would you have believed me?" Stiles' voice sounded hoarser than usual, almost so that he didn't even recognize it himself. His dad grimaced, clearly not being able to argue against that. "Look, Dad, I wanted to tell you, I really did, but a part of me was afraid that you wouldn't listen and another just didn't want to get you involved. It's too dangerous."

His dad gave him a scolding look.

"Stiles, I'm the _sheriff_. You're just a kid."

His dad was the only one allowed to call him that so Stiles didn't even bristle. He knew that his dad was just worried – which caused his chest to clench painfully. He didn't want his dad to worry.

"I know, dad. It's just-..." Stiles gestured weakly, as if it would help him explain to his dad that he just wanted everyone to be okay. "We're doing the best we can."

"You shouldn't have to. Neither of you kids – not even Hale – should have to shoulder this. You're too young, all of you."

Sometimes Stiles forgot that Derek was just a couple of years older than them and while he was a grownup in the eyes of the law Stiles' dad clearly saw him as too young for the responsibilities he had been forced to face. Stiles kind of agreed. Neither of them deserved this. They were teens trying to survive high school and Derek was a young man who had lost his entire family but never seemed to get the opportunity to just move on. Their lives were pretty harsh.

"If I could I would forbid you from ever dealing with those people again." his dad continued with a sigh, looking tired and defeated.

Stiles gaze snapped to his dad, eyes wide in equal amounts of disbelief and dread. His dad smiled softly.

"But I know that I can't." Stiles' dad took the deepest breath he could with his broken ribs, as if to brace himself, and continued, "I'm not okay with it. No parent would be and I admit that if I hadn't had the entire night to mull things over and calm down I would already have locked you up somewhere for safekeeping. This is serious, Stiles."

"I know that, dad," Stiles mumbled weakly, gaze fixed on the floor, almost like a scolded child.

"And I know that you would never betray your friends. That's the only reason I'm willing to find some sort of solution to this. But I'm not okay with it. And you're not doing anything without a grownups approval."

"Geez, Dad, we've already handled all this shit for months without grownups. What difference is it going to do now?" The second after the words had left his mouth Stiles cringed visibly, knowing that it wasn't exactly something that his dad would see as a good argument. The frankly terrifyingly blank and disapproving stare his father gave him confirmed it.

"Stiles, you are my son. I have every right to be worried and I'm not going to let you get hurt just because I'm stuck in a hospital bed. People are _dying_ and I don't know what I would do if you ended up being one of them."

Stiles found himself unable to breathe. His dad didn't even have to say the words – Stiles understood anyway, because he felt exactly the same. He didn't want to lose the only family he had left. It wouldn't just be agonizing – it would be completely devastating.

Stiles licked his lips, his chest tight with guilt and anxiety.

"I know... But we're not alone." He straightened his back and tried to recall some of the confidence he had felt over the past day, ever since they became a pack and decided to form an alliance with the hunters. "Mr. Argent will help. I'm sure Derek told you about, uh... what he does?"

His dad nodded, looking slightly grim, probably because of the knowledge that he had someone within his community capable of doing some pretty serious damage. Not only was Mr. Argent armed, he was also trained in using everything he kept stored in his garage.

"And there are more hunters. We've agreed to cooperate when it comes to finding the bad werewolves and they know that we're just teenagers so they're handling most of it." Or at least Stiles assumed that was how it was going to be. The werewolves might be asked to help but Stiles most assuredly wouldn't. He would only be a hindrance considering that he hadn't been trained to hunt werewolves, like Allison or the other hunters.

His dad didn't seem entirely pleased though so Stiles forced himself to smile as reassuring as he possibly could.

"It will be fine, Dad. I'm the brains, not the brawns."

"And what about the others?" Trust his dad to care for everyone involved. Stiles had to have gotten that from someone, after all.

"They... might be required to do more dangerous stuff. But as long as they're werewolves they're definitely better equipped to handle it too. They heal like, wickedly fast and Derek alone fights brutally enough for three people."

That tidbit of information seemed to have the opposite effect on his dad than what Stiles had intended. It was supposed to be comforting but in retrospect Stiles could understand if it wasn't.

"I don't even know what to say about all of this," his dad eventually admitted, sighing heavily.

Stiles smiled weakly.

"It's a lot to grasp, I know, but you can always ask Mrs. McCall if you're wondering about anything – Scott has explained some things to her. Or talk to Mr. Argent. He knows _a lot_."

Considering their respective professions it might actually help if his dad and Mr. Argent were able to talk to each other. They could probably find many practical solutions to how the police was going to treat the werewolves and everything surrounding it. Stiles had to suggest that once his dad had grown more accustomed to the thought of werewolves walking amongst them.

"I feel like I'm the last to know about this," his dad grumbled. Stiles chuckled.

"Not by a long shot. We've been keeping it pretty secret for a while now."

His dad had relaxed back against the pillows by then, perhaps not content but at least calmer with the situation. Stiles wanted to hug him, just to make sure that he was okay, but kept himself from it.

"And this is why nothing ever made sense with all the murders," his father said, more like a statement than a question. Stiles nodded all the same.

"Yeah. But if it makes you feel better Scott and I never had anything to do with them. At all. We got pulled into it due to Scott being a werewolf but we never hurt anyone." Well, anyone who didn't deserve it, at least. "We only tried to help – and actually managed on some occasions."

Stiles hadn't known how much he had needed to say those words until he already had. A heavy, cold lump in his stomach loosened and his next breath was somehow easier to take. He wanted his dad to know that he had raised Stiles right – that Stiles tried to do good even if it didn't seem like it when you didn't have all the facts.

His dad smiled softly.

"I'm beginning to understand that..."

Stiles was actually glad that his dad didn't say something lame about always having known that Stiles wouldn't do bad things, because it wouldn't have been the truth. His dad had doubted it. But he didn't anymore and Stiles was glad for the honesty.

"Did Kate Argent really kill all those people relating to the Hale fire?" his dad suddenly asked, no doubt having carried that nagging suspicion ever since the case had been officially closed.

Stile hesitated, realizing that his dad probably didn't know about Peter, because while werewolves might be easy to accept after having been attacked by them being raised from the dead still had a rather impossible ring to it. Derek couldn't possibly have found it relevant enough to explain it either, not when they had a more pressing matters to worry about. Stiles was going to go on the assumption that Derek had told his dad about the things relating to the current situation – werewolves, hunters and the hostile pack – but everything past that wasn't as urgent. Not that Stiles wouldn't reply now that his dad actually asked.

"Uh... no. She did set the Hale house on fire though and was killed because she had – like the others. Well, except for Laura Hale. That was slightly different."

"She was one too, right? Laura Hale, I mean." His dad didn't seem quite capable of saying the word werewolf just yet but Stiles wasn't going to blame him for that.

"Yeah, she was. Most of the Hale family was, as far as I've heard. Kate Argent killed them because of it."

His dad seemed thoughtful for a while before giving Stiles a slightly reproachful look.

"And who killed Kate Argent?"

Stiles stiffened. He really should have expected that question. And he really should have tried to find an answer to it because his dad could probably see clear as day that Stiles knew but hesitated to tell him.

"It wasn't Derek," was Stiles' incredibly odd knee-jerk response. He hadn't even known that it bothered him – that he didn't want his dad to think that Derek was somehow responsible for all those deaths.

His dad looked particularly displeased and opened his mouth to protest but Stiles quickly interrupted him.

"You honestly don't want to know, Dad. I'm telling you – let this be for now. It wasn't Derek or Scott or anyone you know. That's what's important. I promise to tell you everything later but it's best to just focus on the more pressing issue, which is how we're going to handle the hostile werewolves. Okay?"

There was a moment of hesitation – brought on by to his dad's stubbornness no doubt – before Stiles' father nodded, looking reluctant but honest. Stiles could settle for that.

He took a deep breath and rubbed a hand over his buzz cut, feeling both relieved and a little afraid. His dad knew. There was no reason to keep secrets from him now but Stiles had done it for so long that he didn't even know how to speak up about them. He was definitely not going to tell his dad about all the times he had almost died these past months – that was just stupid. But there were probably other things his dad would want to know about. Not that Stiles would tell him now. His dad needed to rest and if anything they should be focusing their attention on the current murderous werewolves, not those from the past.

"He seems to like you, you know," his dad suddenly said. Stiles looked up with a confused frown.

"Who?"

"Derek Hale."

Stiles hadn't known how easy it was to choke on pure air until that moment. The fact that his cheeks began to burn red only made matters worse, and the puzzled look his dad gave him while Stiles coughed and wheezed wasn't helping. A creeping hint of realization seemed to sneak into his father's expression – coupled with a fair share of surprise – and Stiles was pretty much ready to pray for some sort of instant death or divine intervention to save him from the entire situation. Realization was bad. Very bad. His dad didn't need to realize anything involving Stiles and possibly Derek right now.

"Stiles, is there anything I should know-"

"NO!" Stiles shouted in panic, waving his arms dramatically through the air as if he could swat the words away. "Jesus _Christ_! No! Nope. Nothing at all."

"I'm almost afraid to ask-"

"Oh _God_ don't ask. Please don't ask." Stiles was prepared to throw himself on the floor and beg for mercy, which his father seemed to sense if the rather exasperated smile was anything to go by. This could definitely evolve into the most embarrassing conversation of his life if his dad didn't take pity on him.

"Fine. I won't." Stiles let out a breath, which he choked on in the next moment at his father's low but ominous finish. "... yet."

Stiles forced himself to act as casual as possible – which was difficult when you were slowly asphyxiating yourself – while his dad looked vaguely amused. Stiles really wasn't ready for whatever question his father might want to ask. He really, really wasn't.

Stiles wasn't stupid – he knew that there were a couple of things he should come to terms with pretty soon – but he wasn't ready yet. Ignorance was bliss, after all, and it wasn't as if Stiles didn't _know_ , he just wasn't going to face it yet. He wasn't sure when he would be ready but now was definitely not it. Not when a lot of it seemed to involve Derek and he had just set himself up to spend more time with the alpha – no one would appreciate the awkward that was bound to come from that.

His dad apparently decided to be considerate because he did indeed not ask, but he didn't quite let the subject go either.

"I just meant to say that he made sure to let me know that you're a great help. I think that he could tell that I wanted to lock you away and wanted to make sure that I knew that they need you."

Stiles perked up at that, with a dorky, hopeful look on his face. It made him seem quite pathetic but he couldn't help it. He liked being of use.

"Really?" Derek never told him those kinds of things. Actually, Derek never told _anyone_ those kinds of things.

"Well, he did sound as if it was physically painful for him to admit it but at least he was honest," his dad offered with a slight shrug and a crooked smile.

Stiles chuckled.

"Yeah, that happens a lot for some reason." He scratched behind his ear. "But he's nicer than he looks – all of them are actually. Erica is awesome, just wait until you meet her. And Isaac is adorable, no one can say no to Isaac, seriously. And I think that you'll really like Boyd. He seems like the kind of person you would like because he's all dependable and stuff and-"

Stiles stopped himself when his father started to laugh – or as well as he could considering his injuries – and just stared, waiting for an explanation for his reaction. His dad smiled with an odd glint in his eyes that Stiles couldn't quite interpret.

"I'm glad that you've gotten more friends, Stiles."

Stiles was slightly taken aback but smiled soon enough.

"Yeah... so am I."

And he really was. He had never felt lonely or unhappy when it was just him and Scott but he couldn't deny that he liked having more friends.

His dad looked thoughtful for a moment before holding out his hand, which Stiles took without hesitation. The grip was strong and firm – comforting in a way that only his dad could manage – and Stiles couldn't help feeling that everything would be alright now.

"You promise me to be careful, Stiles." His dad's gaze was firm and booked no argument so Stiles just nodded, squeezing his dad's fingers to offer some reassurance. "And _talk_ to me, okay? I can understand why you didn't earlier but now you can, you hear me? I want you to talk to me."

Oh wow. His dad really knew how to make Stiles feel emotional in a matter of seconds. Stiles bit the inside of his cheek to get something else to focus on than the burn behind his eyelids. He nodded.

"Yeah. Okay. I will." His voice wavered ever so slightly but he did smile. His dad let go of Stiles' hand and placed his own against the side of Stiles' neck, his thumb stroking just behind his ear.

"I'm proud of you, Stiles. Not the lying and the secrets but for everything you've done for your friends – and those who aren't your friends. I'm really proud," his dad said softly, eyes glowing with pride and something that wasn't quite trust but at least similar to it. They were healing.

Stiles nodded mutely, completely certain that his voice wouldn't hold, while desperately trying to find a way to show how much he appreciated the words and the gesture. He had missed his dad so much.

"So..." his dad said, suddenly casual in a way that told Stiles that the emotional confessions were over, even if his hand lingered against Stiles' neck, warm and comforting, "what are the odds of me getting a burger?"

Stiles couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him – loud and happy – while he playfully pushed his dad's hand away.

"Slim to none. Not gonna happen."

"Oh come on!" his dad exclaimed, as close to a pout as any grown man would ever get. "I'm hospitalized, Stiles! I think I deserve it."

"Oh no! Getting hurt and hospitalized does not make you entitled to rewards! Quite the opposite," Stiles replied with a snort, but his grin diminished the effect of it.

"I haven't given up yet," his dad grumbled with a grimace.

"I never doubted that," Stiles replied while catching his father's hand again, just to be able to hold it. His dad didn't seem to mind if his smile was anything to go by. "Just make sure to get better, okay?"

Stiles' dad nodded and squeezed his hand supportively. The relief Stiles felt was unimaginable, his chest expanding in a deep, cleansing breath while a grin spread on his lips.

They were going to be alright.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favourite chapters, simply because I've been _dying_ to set things right between Stiles and his dad. It's not perfect yet but at least they're getting there! And you just gotta love the sheriff. He miiiiiiight be onto something...
> 
> ... because yeah, Derek isn't very subtle is he? ;)
> 
> My beta, [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum), chose to describe it as Derek doing some kind of grumpy, roundabout courtship thing. And she might just be right about that.
> 
> I hope that you will enjoy this newest chapter!


	3. Promises

 

* * *

 

Stiles' dad might be a lot of things but stupid was definitely not one of them. When random teenagers started dropping by the hospital room Stiles could see that his dad understood that something was going on, he just couldn't quite figure out what.

Isaac and Erica came as a pair this time – which in itself made Stiles incredibly happy because it meant that Erica and Boyd might no longer be isolated from the rest of them – and both of them proceeded to charm their way into Stiles' dad's heart. It didn't take much. The two baby betas were definitely on their best behavior, which was vaguely unsettling for Stiles who knew what they were capable of, but his dad seemed to enjoy it.

It was clear as day that his dad was still a little suspicious – he knew that these two seemingly harmless kids were werewolves, not to mention that Isaac had been suspected of murdering his own abusive father – but they had that innocent, lost puppy air about them. And if Stiles couldn't resist it then his dad sure couldn't either.

It ran in the family.

Granted that both Erica and Isaac seemed to favor talking to Stiles but they were nice and polite towards his dad too. Erica in particular seemed to want Stiles' dad's approval while Isaac was a little more laid back and casual about it. Stiles watched it all with a mixture of amusement and dread. It was good though considering that being in the same pack would undoubtedly mean that Stiles – and through that also his dad – would see more of the werewolves. They might as well get used to it right away.

Despite the friendly atmosphere they never once broached the subject of werewolves or the threat hanging above their heads, which meant that it stood out like a huge purple elephant in the room. All of them knew about it, even Stiles' dad, but no one seemed to want to break the unspoken agreement of silence and bring it up. Stiles was fine with that.

He wanted his dad to get as much rest as possible and neither did he want to discuss those kinds of things without Scott or Derek. He had a lot that he wanted to discuss with Derek, as a matter of fact, but he didn't dare to ask Erica or Isaac about where the alpha might be. Stiles definitely had a right to know now that they were a pack and all but he was afraid that they would question why he wanted to talk to Derek. And that was a very private matter. So he just let it be. Derek couldn't avoid him forever.

After a couple of hours Stiles made sure to send Erica and Isaac to get some food and snacks from the cafeteria because he could tell that his dad was just about to crack and ask outright why the two werewolves were there.

And sure enough, as soon as Erica and Isaac had disappeared his dad gave him a level look.

"Are they guarding me?" his dad asked, sounding incredulous and a little baffled.

Stiles gave a small laugh while rubbing the back of his head.

"Yeah, they are. Well, they might be guarding both of us actually, but mostly you."

"They're just kids." He sounded confused rather than condescending though and Stiles just couldn't help loving his dad a little more because of it.

"They're werewolves," Stiles replied with a shrug, "They'll smell or hear a threat long before you or I would notice. It's not just about them being strong and resilient." Stiles gestured towards the door. "I think that they're mostly here as a deterrent to make sure that no one tries anything. They're not expected to fight."

Stiles might have been lying when he said that but he sounded honest and his dad seemed to think the same since he didn't press the issue. Then his dad's expression turned teasing of all things.

"Erica is very nice." There was no mistaking the obvious hint his dad was giving him – as if the smile and encouraging look wasn't enough. Stiles groaned.

"Oh my God, Dad! Are you going to ask me that as soon as a girl my age is within my immediate vicinity?"

"I'm just saying that there must be a reason for her to willingly submit herself to you and your-... eccentrics," his dad replied sagely. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Haha. Very funny." He slapped his dad's arm, the touch barely even there but the sentiment most certainly was. "Be nice to your only son."

"I am. That was me censoring myself." His dad gave him a searching look. "And don't think I'm not aware that you're trying to change the subject. So, Erica?"

Stiles wanted to sigh and groan but he knew that it was just better to give his dad what he wanted. They were too similar in that. Once they caught wind of something they wouldn't stop until they found out the truth.

So instead of whining about the unfairness of the universe he took a deep breath and shook his head with a smile. It was a nice smile though because he liked Erica but it would never be like his dad seemed to hope.

"Nah," he answered softly, "it could have been, I guess, but now it's just... too complicated."

"But you like her?"

"As a friend, yeah. And she likes me back. That's more than I thought that I would have." He shrugged before leaning back in his chair. "Erica is awesome and we have a lot of fun together but that's it. And that's how I want it to be."

His dad raised his hands to show that he accepted the subject as over and done with but the smile lingered. He didn't seem disappointed or confused by Stiles' choice and Stiles was infinitely glad for that. He could understand if his dad wanted him to get a girl and enjoy his teenage years as much as he could but Stiles was still hurt after Lydia's rejection and he'd rather keep Erica as a friend. So none of that – at least not yet. There was a time for everything but now wasn't it.

Before his dad had any time to antagonize Stiles further Mrs. McCall came to check on them both, quickly followed by Erica and Isaac's return from the cafeteria. Mrs. McCall was a wonder of slightly teasing yet obviously honest comfort and took Erica and Isaac's presence in a stride, giving them both her usual, slightly suspicious but warm smile. She was one of those mothers who knew for a fact that children were bound to misbehave and she expected nothing less even from those who weren't her own. Erica and Isaac only grinned innocently, oddly identical in the creepiest way possible.

After Mrs. McCall was pleased with her check up – which mostly seemed to consist of bantering with Stiles' dad and telling the teenagers in the room to behave – she gave them all one last warning look before leaving. Stiles hesitated a moment or two before he excused himself and bolted after her, ignoring the confused looks he got from the others.

She had only gotten a couple of steps from Stiles' dad's hospital room and Stiles made sure to close the door behind himself. Erica and Isaac would still hear what he was about to say but his father wouldn't if he could help it.

"Mrs. McCall! Wait!" he called after her, making her turn around with a slightly puzzled look on her face. "Uh... I just wanted to ask... how long do you think that they'll keep my dad here?"

He tried not to look nervous but Mrs. McCall probably saw right through it. She knew him too well and had those instincts only certain parents had, which told them instantly when someone below the age of twenty was lying.

"If he promises to take it easy he can be discharged tomorrow. While some of his wounds are severe they don't need any immediate attention. Bandages need to be changed and he needs to rest but if he wants to go home he can do it pretty soon."

Stiles bit his lip and hesitated. It was only Mrs. McCall's confused and imploring look that pushed him into answering her.

"I was actually going to ask if you could keep him here a little longer."

Mrs. McCall's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Why? I thought that you both would want to get home as soon as possible?" Her tone didn't show that she was subtly referring to both Stiles' and his dad's dislike for hospitals but Stiles knew. He wanted to agree with her – he didn't like spending time at the hospital one bit – but it was wiser to stay.

"I know. And we probably do but-..." He licked his lips and gave her a firm look, praying that she would see how serious he was about this. "He's got broken ribs and a leg in a cast. Even with werewolves keeping guard he's safer here than he would be at home. There's always people here – you even have security guards – so they wouldn't risk coming here to hurt him again. But if I took him home? He'd be at bigger risk and he's in no shape to defend himself."

Mrs. McCall's expression softened but she didn't agree with him just yet.

"Stiles, your father is a grown man – I can't exactly keep him here against his will."

"You could try?" Stiles pleaded, half joking half not, which made Mrs. McCall smile. "He wouldn't listen to me, you know that. I'm his kid and I'm not supposed to take care of him and all that, but if you told him then maybe he would listen."

She gave him a long doubtful look but the honesty and worry must have shown on Stiles' face because she sighed in the end, with a resigned little smile.

"I can ask him," she relented.

"Yes! Ask him!" Stiles nodded excitedly, barely keeping himself from giving her a huge hug in thanks. "And tell him that it would be much better that way. For all of us."

"I'll do what I can."

Stiles didn't know what he would do without Mrs. McCall. On an everyday basis they didn't meet much and to outsiders she seemed to barely tolerate his hyperactive presence but she always pulled through when it mattered. It was clear that she was slightly confused as to how to treat teenage boys sometimes but she did a great job of taking care of both her own son and Stiles. She was really awesome. Stiles took a deep breath.

"You'll take care of him, right? When I'm not here, I mean." He gestured vaguely towards his dad's hospital room and Mrs. McCall seemed taken aback for a moment or two, before her smile returned – stronger and reassuring.

"Of course, Stiles. I'll take care of him." Her voice was so soft and comforting that Stiles couldn't stop himself from taking the step that was between them and finally hug her.

He could tell that the sudden display of affection surprised her but it only took a moment before she wrapped her arms around him and returned the embrace. She was smaller than he was but she felt so much stronger, especially when she stroked the back of his head in that instinctive way mothers do.

"He'll be fine, Stiles," she whispered and for at least a little while Stiles decided that it was okay to be a kid again and believe wholeheartedly that whatever she said was true.

 

 

The carefree atmosphere plummeted quite drastically a couple of hours later when Scott came by after work looking serious and anxious. Stiles – who was in the middle of scolding Erica and Isaac for sneaking his dad sweets when he turned his back – was up from his chair without even realizing it. He didn't walk over to Scott but he was ready to, at a moment's notice.

"What's wrong?" he asked tensely, at which Scott actually relaxed, if only a little. He did throw a cautious glance towards Stiles' dad though, together with a questioning look, which reminded Stiles that Scott didn't know how the conversation from that morning had gone.

"It's okay," Stiles said with a small nod, "he knows."

Scott didn't linger and instead dove right into whatever it was that was bothering him.

"Allison called." That could be really good or really bad but judging on Scott's expression it was probably bad. "The hunters want us to meet tonight."

Okay, bad it was. Stiles took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He had had time to get used to the thought of being the mediator between the two camps and it seemed that it was time to step up and get on with it.

"Who're going?" he asked, ignoring the questioning looks he got from his dad for the time being.

"Well, Allison said that there would be three hunters so she suggested that we bring three from the werewolf side as well."

"Which would mean Derek, you and me," Stiles concluded with a nod, one that Scott mirrored and Erica and Isaac didn't question. They probably weren't interested in the negotiations anyway. They were both more hands-on people.

"Hang on a minute. Is this about that truce thing?" his dad asked in his patented cop voice. The one he always seemed to fall back on when he wanted to know something and show people that there was no use arguing.

"Yeah, over at Allison's house," Scott replied. "Mr. Argent and Allison are going to be there too."

"This isn't dangerous in any way, is it?" his dad asked suspiciously, looking between Scott and Stiles like they were already doing something bad.

"Oh, no." Scott shook his head, utilizing that innocent puppy dog look that no one could say no to. "Not at all. Mr. Argent will be there and all these hunters are adults. We're just going to talk and make sure that we all know what's going on and decide how we're going to handle it."

Stiles' dad relaxed back into his pillows and Stiles was both shocked and impressed. How did Scott _do_ that? He could make any grownup trust him with nothing but a dorky little smile and some honest, well-spoken words. Stiles was jealous. But he also knew how to seize the opportunity Scott was giving him.

"Exactly. It's just talking." Stiles shrugged to make it seem like less of a big deal than it actually was.

He was frankly terrified of going there, but of course he would anyway. Scott would be there with him, which would help, and Derek could function as a very scary, non-cuddly guard dog if necessary. Stiles was fairly certain that neither Scott nor Derek wouldn't let the hunters hurt him, if it came to that. Stiles was just going to make sure that they all got along.

Then again, Derek would probably be the biggest distraction of them all because Stiles had so many questions he wanted to ask but he had a feeling that the alpha would do his best to avoid them, like usual. If not because of the hunters then at least because he was socially inept. If Stiles knew Derek – and he assumed that he did, or at least as well as anyone could know the hostile and aloof alpha – then Derek would refuse to talk about the incident with the leather jacket unless Stiles somehow managed to pin him down and force him to answer. Which, while offering a rather interesting imagery, wasn't very likely to happen. Stiles wasn't prepared to let it all go though. He would just have to bide his time and wait for the right opportunity.

"And you're going to this?" Stiles' dad asked, calmer but still wary.

"Yeah, they want me there to make sure that everyone behaves. I'm the mediator."

Stiles wasn't quite sure but something that could have been pride flashed past in his father's gaze. His expression was still a little grim however and his next couple of words booked no argument.

"You come back here once you're done, you hear me? Both of you," Stiles' dad said, pinning both Stiles and Scott with a look that was half veteran cop and half worried parent. Stiles and Scott nodded obediently.

"We'll stay here," Erica said, smiling in a comforting and supportive manner. Despite the reassurance that someone would be there to watch over his dad while he was gone Stiles' eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You're just going to keep sneaking my dad food he shouldn't eat," he accused.

The fact that all three of them – Erica, Isaac _and_ Stiles' dad – tried to look innocent in that way that only made them look all the more guilty made Stiles laugh. He wasn't really mad at them because as far as he was concerned his father needed to regain as much strength as he could, even if it was in the form of vaguely unhealthy stuff, but it was the principle of the thing.

"It's not that bad," Isaac said with a shrug and a playful little smile.

"No. No puppy dog looks," Stiles commanded firmly but didn't say more on the subject of his father's eating habits. He could let it slide for the moment. And he had to admit that it was actually pretty adorable how Erica and Isaac wanted to spoil his dad. He couldn't quite understand why but he wasn't going to argue either.

"We should get going soon," Scott said quietly, as if he didn't want to go at all. Stiles could understand that. He wasn't very eager either.

They had no idea what to expect and Allison's house wasn't as much of a neutral zone as he would have liked. The Argents were hunters after all even if they had decided to stay on the sidelines as tactical support for this particular conflict. But at least they were fair. All of them followed the code. There would be a lot of arguing but at least there would be no death and violence – or so Stiles hoped.

He took a deep breath and nodded before giving his dad a comforting smile.

"We'll be back soon, okay?"

His dad didn't seem convinced that this was a good idea but gave a stern look of acceptance in return. He understood that he wouldn't be able to stop them.

"Take care and be careful," Scott said to Erica and Isaac, the latter smiling crookedly, albeit with a worried little hint.

"You do the same," Isaac replied in a grave voice and Stiles couldn't help snorting in disbelief.

"Oh my God! We're not going to our own execution! Lighten up!" Stiles never was one for wallowing in misery when there were important things to do. "I'll see you soon, puppies. And you make sure to rest, Dad."

Stiles decided that he had to have some kind of superpower to make all three whom he had addressed roll their eyes in an almost identical fashion. Wow. That was so cool. With a wide grin and a sloppy salute he turned on his heel and followed Scott out the door.

They had hunters to negotiate with.

 

 

"Hey, Scott, I know that this is going to be a little difficult but I need you to do something for me..." Stiles said the moment after Scott had parked on the street opposite to the Argent house.

There had been no real use getting the Jeep so they were borrowing the McCall car – Stiles had to thank Mrs. McCall for her kindness – meaning that Stiles had been given time during the ride to consider a thing or two since he hadn't been focused on driving.

Scott gave him an honest, imploring look as if to urge him on.

"If you can, try not to disrespect Derek in front of the hunters." Stiles tried to sound as serious as possible to make Scott realize that this wasn't something he was joking about. That didn't keep Scott from barking out a disbelieving little laugh though.

"What? You're telling _me_ that? You're usually the one who does that."

"I know, okay? But you do it too. And this is one time when it would be a very, very bad idea. You understand why, right?" Stiles pressed, turning towards Scott in his seat.

There was no rush getting out of the car since they were waiting for Derek to arrive before going up to the house, so they had a few moments to kill.

Scott drummed his thumb against the steering wheel, looking vaguely reluctant but not unreasonably so.

"I know. We need to show a united front, even if they don't know that we're one pack now. Allison said that she wouldn't tell them about that."

"Exactly. And I get why you hesitate, I really do man, because Derek does have a tendency to only listen to his own reasons. I know that." Stiles gestured spastically, his nerves beginning to make themselves known. "I think that he'll be on better behavior tonight though."

Scott gave him a dubious look and a raised eyebrow. Stiles shrugged.

"Have you talked to him since the whole joining thing?"

"Well, I called him about the negotiations and we decided to meet here before going inside. But that's about it. I've mostly talked to Isaac since," Scott replied slowly, as if he was beginning to see where Stiles was going with this.

"And what did Derek say?" Stiles asked.

"Not much," Scott answered with a shrug. "He sort of just said okay and that we should meet up here before going inside and-... oh." Scott looked completely stunned. "He was actually very civil."

Stiles gave a crooked little smile. He had been right.

"I think that while Derek knows that the whole joining thing isn't because he's the best alpha he just got several more people who are relying on him. And he can feel the difference." Stiles let out a soft breath. "He's always been a bad alpha because he's got trust issues and thinks that he has to handle everything on his own, without input from others. But we both know that he's not selfish. If he was he wouldn't go out of his way time and time again to save you – or me for that matter – and probably not care so much whenever something bad happens."

"You're saying that if he could start trusting others he'd be a pretty good alpha?" Scott asked quizzically and Stiles snapped his fingers.

"Yes! Yes, exactly. Or, well... maybe. It all depends but there's nothing wrong with his motivation, just his means and the way he executes it all." Stiles grinned. "And that's where you come in."

"Me?" Scott looked surprised which he really shouldn't have.

"Yes. You are definitely better at that. He'll learn from you. But until he does we'll have to be a little nice to him. He's trying, I'm sure that he is." Stiles grimaced. "And you know how much it pains me to admit that, so I'm serious here. He seems ready to at least try to cooperate and be a little gentler but we have to meet him half way, okay?"

Derek's behavior at the hospital with Stiles was enough to show that. Not only had the alpha referred to the pack as 'we' instead of 'I' but he had been considerate and kind – or as kind as Derek could be at least – to Stiles even if he didn't have to. They were pack, yes, but up until that point Derek had been a tough-love alpha, one who beat his pack mates into submission, not offered them leather jackets or told parents about werewolves so that they didn't have to. Something had changed and even if Stiles knew that it wouldn't be perfect right off the bat it was apparent that Derek was making an effort – and so would they.

"Yeah." Scott nodded, firmer and more determined this time. "Yeah, okay. I can do that."

Scott beamed at him and Stiles grinned back, so incredibly relieved that Scott was using all of that heart and brains he actually had. When Scott had grown some more he would undoubtedly be able to become a pretty kickass alpha himself, if he ever felt inclined.

They got another minute or two of waiting – which they spent joking and talking like this wasn't going to be a terrifying evening – before the sleek black Camaro came down the street and pulled up behind them. Stiles and Scott was out of their car before Derek had even cut the engine, both of them jittery from the tension and apprehension. The alpha took it all at a much slower pace, looking confident and composed as he most often did. Stiles was pretty certain that some of it was a front but he wasn't going to call Derek out on it. They needed someone who seemed to know what they were doing, even if he was just faking it.

Stiles had to bite back all the questions he wanted to blurt out when he saw Derek again. Like why he had gotten to borrow Derek's jacket – which the alpha was back to wearing if Stiles wasn't mistaken – or why Derek had gone out of his way to tell Stiles' dad about werewolves when he really didn't have to. Stiles wanted to ask him so bad but he knew that this was not the time. They had to take that later, when they weren't on a time schedule and Scott wasn't present. Stiles didn't want to talk about this in front of Scott. Ever.

Derek didn't seem inclined either judging on the blank look on his face, as if everything was completely normal and he hadn't been nice and civil to Stiles for once. Things weren't normal. Stiles was slowly going insane with all these unanswered questions and he was pretty certain that his impatience showed. He just hoped that the two werewolves would write it off as something related to the hunters, not personal issues Stiles had with Derek.

"Allison knows about us being pack but she's promised not to tell the others," Scott said in a low voice as Derek made his way over to them. Scott seemed to be bracing himself for some sort of argument but all Derek did was to raise his eyebrows a fraction before giving a confirming nod. Granted that there wouldn't have been much to argue about since it was already done but even Stiles had expected some sort of protest.

The alpha gave them a look that somehow managed to be patient and impatient at the same time. Stiles had no idea how Derek pulled that off.

"Anything else?" Derek sounded nicer than usual but it had that slightly condescending tone he sometimes got when he felt that he was babying someone without reason. Stiles rolled his eyes and ignored the glare that earned him. They might be united but they weren't going to miraculously get along just because of that.

"No, I don't think so," Scott replied with a tense little shrug.

"Good," Derek snapped before heading towards the Argent house with determined steps.

Stiles was a little surprised that Derek wasn't more hesitant when it came to trusting the hunters but that might, on the other hand, have been a sign of weakness and the alpha hated those. And there was nothing to indicate that Derek actually trusted the hunters if Stiles was to be honest. Maybe he just wanted to get the talking over as soon as possible. Derek was a notoriously bad talker.

"Do we have any kind of plan at all when it comes to the negotiations?" Stiles asked under his breath as he and Scott fell in step with Derek, but the werewolves could hear him easily enough with their super hearing.

"It depends on what they want," Derek replied flatly and Stiles wasn't even sure if his lips had moved when he said it.

"If that's your plan I must say that it sucks," Stiles hissed and glared at the alpha, who glared right back.

"Stiles!" Scott admonished because, yeah, Stiles was doing exactly what he told Scott not to do.

They weren't even inside the house yet but the hunters must have noticed their arrival and could be spying out the windows. Damn. Perhaps Stiles shouldn't have been so hard on Scott if he himself couldn't behave.

"Sorry. It's a reflex," Stiles defended but he made sure to avert his eyes – no matter how much it annoyed him to have to do so – and Derek seemed to relax a little. Not challenging the alpha was a lot harder than Stiles thought that it would be.

"We want to patrol the woods, not the streets – we have better advantages in the wild – and if possible I want to keep them from seeing the faces of the rest of the pack, to prevent them from coming back and hunting us once this is resolved," Derek explained and Stiles stumbled when he realized exactly what the alpha had said.

Scott, bless his soul, was kind enough to grab Stiles' elbow and make sure that he didn't fall flat on his face.

"You-... okay." Stiles couldn't help sounding a little baffled. He didn't know that Derek actually made plans sometimes – probably because he never shared them. The alpha gave Stiles an amused look over his shoulder, not stopping to wait for Stiles and Scott despite Stiles' little fumble.

"Keep up, Stiles," Derek said almost carelessly, but there was an obvious teasing hint to it. Stiles wasn't sure if the alpha was talking about walking, his thoughts on Derek's intelligence or something else entirely. Either way Stiles found that he chuckled, surprisingly enough, before giving Scott a look and following behind their alpha.

Wow. That was a phrase that would take a while to get used to.

_Their_ alpha.

Still, Stiles didn't feel even half as reluctant as he thought that he would have. That was new. But definitely not important right now.

Stiles took a deep breath to brace himself and noticed Scott doing something similar once they reached the threshold. Derek gave them a look before he rang the doorbell.

"You two look like someone is about to try and kill you," Derek said in a low, fairly subtle voice and Stiles stared at their alpha – or the slight smirk on his lips, more correctly. Derek thought this was _funny_. The bastard.

"Well excuse me for not being a badass werewolf!" Stiles hissed back.

Derek raised an eyebrow but still looked amused if anything. And calm. Stiles couldn't understand why because it had to be forced somehow but it seemed genuine – to the extent that Stiles wondered why he was so worried if Derek seemed to think that this wasn't such a big deal.

"But you do have two of them with you," Derek pointed out easily before he looked ahead, at the door that would open any second now. Stiles blanched, staring at Derek with a surprised look on his face.

Did Derek just imply that they would protect him?

Stiles sneaked a look at Scott and yes, judging on the Scott's expression that was exactly what Derek had suggested. Not that Stiles couldn't take care of himself but the mere fact that it was said openly – that he had it confirmed – was reassuring enough to make Stiles feel safer. He probably wouldn't need it but _if_ he did he would get it.

Huh. Things didn't feel so bad anymore.

In the next moment the door opened, revealing a slightly stiff-looking Mr. Argent. His posture was cautious and his eyes were focused on Derek – clearly seeing him as the biggest threat – but he seemed civil enough.

"How nice of you to join us. Right this way."

Stiles couldn't quite tell if Mr. Argent was happy to see them or not but he didn't have time to ponder on that. Not when Derek just nodded and stepped inside the house without hesitation. The alpha looked a little more serious now – and tense – but still confident and in control. Stiles had no idea how Derek did that because Stiles hands were already beginning to sweat and his knees felt a little wobbly. Derek had to be nervous too, or at least reluctant. But it didn't show. It struck Stiles that Derek almost seemed to be a real alpha in that moment – one to rely on and look to for guidance. It was an interesting shift and hopefully it would be more than just a front – not to mention permanent.

Stiles dared to gulp in a small breath before sharing an encouraging smile with Scott. They could do this. Stiles strengthened his resolve and after a small nod in Mr. Argent's direction both he and Scott followed their alpha into the house.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmm. Things are finally moving forward! Next chapter will be a long one since I can't seem to write short meetings with the hunters. But ah well. There's some pretty interesting developments in it.
> 
> Also, you gotta wonder what the sheriff thinks, seeing the different ways Stiles reacts to him asking questions about Erica vs. Derek. Because Stiles isn't very subtle either, is he?
> 
> Thank you to my beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum), because this fanfic is nearing epic proportions and she might not have been prepared for that when she signed up for this job x'D


	4. Treaty

 

* * *

 

Stiles didn't really know what to expect when they were being led into the Argent living room but it turned out that his worries were for nothing because everything looked neat and normal. Well, except for the three hunters who wouldn't usually be there. That wasn't normal.

Two of them were lounging casually in one of the couches – the thin man Stiles knew as Gary and the shorthaired blonde woman with a red leather jacket from earlier – while Walter stood a little to the side talking to Allison. All four of them looked up when their little werewolf party arrived and there was a myriad of different reactions that Stiles managed to catch.

Gary seemed reluctant and disdainful, Blondie seemed amused and vaguely impressed by Derek for some reason and Allison hid a smile – poorly – when her eyes fell on Scott, only to have it fade when she noticed Derek. Walter on the other hand was impossible to read and it made Stiles more nervous than he wanted to admit. The oldest hunter didn't seem hostile or even unfriendly, but he gave no indication as to what he really thought. Stiles wasn't used to that.

"Stiles. How nice to see you again."

Considering their situation Stiles was prone to believe that Walter was being sarcastic but the ease with which he said it suggested that he was in fact honest. That was confirmed by how Walter stepped closer and held out a hand to greet him. It was on pure reflex that Stiles accepted it and was given another one of those slightly too firm handshakes.

"Uh, right," was his intelligent reply because he honestly couldn't think of anything better to say.

Scott looked just about ready to question the casual familiarity Walter greeted Stiles with but the seriousness of the situation kept him from it. Stiles was glad. Stiles wouldn't be able to answer anyway and he was horrendously confused by it himself. Sure, he had met the man before and Walter had seemed at least vaguely impressed but this was different.

"And you must be Derek," Walter continued effortlessly, turning towards Derek instead. The older hunter seemed to know better than to offer a handshake this time and regarded Derek with the appropriate amount of caution. "I see that Stiles was successful in his endeavor to save you and that you have recovered from the unfortunate events from a week ago."

The words held no malice but they were clearly a quip none the less. Not a very imaginative one but Stiles suspected that they were more of a test than anything else – one that Derek must have passed with flying colors because he didn't as much as twitch at the barely hidden insult.

Derek might be quick to rise to Stiles' taunts but that was different – insulting and infuriating, yes, but it wasn't a matter of life and death. Here it would be a sign of weakness to show anger and while Derek was an expert when it came to that certain emotion Stiles knew that Derek was also surprisingly good at not lashing out with it. It was a quiet, seething rage that could be hidden behind Derek's usual mask of indifference. This was no exception.

"Indeed. Although I assume we're not here to discuss that," Derek replied evenly, voice carefully blank and revealing nothing of what he thought or felt. Stiles might have been able to read the alpha if he put some effort into it but there were clearly better things he could do with this time and attention.

"Why don't you have a seat?" Mr. Argent suggested, whether to be polite or in an attempt to break the steadily rising tension was unclear but Scott took it to heart and sat down in the couch opposite to the two hunters.

Scott really was a little too trusting sometimes.

Stiles forced himself not to hesitate before he followed Scott's example, while trying to look as casual about it as possible. He knew that Derek wouldn't sit. There was probably some unspoken macho code that said that alphas remained standing when negotiating. Then again, Walter didn't sit down either, even if he moved to stand closer to the other couch, the one which housed his two hunter buddies.

Derek chose to linger behind the couch Scott and Stiles were seated in and there were literally twenty different possibilities as to why he did that. Stiles suspected that it was to have them both within easy reach if they misbehaved and he tried not to shiver nervously at having the alpha hover behind him like that. He trusted Derek not to hurt him, yes, but this was a sign of dominance that Stiles wasn't entirely used to. He would just have to grit his teeth and bear it.

He wasn't entirely pleased with not being able to see Derek's face either because it would be difficult to gauge the alpha's mood without it but Stiles would just have to rely on other signs instead.

Allison had yet not said or done anything but judging on the look on her face it was probably just as well that she remained silent for now. She wasn't happy to see Derek, that much was obvious, and Stiles was secretly glad that she was wise enough not to let that interrupt what was taking place.

"A presentation is in order," Mr. Argent said casually but Stiles didn't know if he had ever been in a room with such a suspicious, tense and hostile group of people before. It was all hidden behind patient masks of pleasantness, oh yes, but none of them were fooled – not even Scott, who twisted a little in his seat. No one was casual during this meeting.

Mr. Argent proceeded to introduce them all – Blondie's name was apparently not Blondie but Kim – and since Allison had kept good on her promise Scott was introduced as an omega of Beacon Hills. Stiles was given the title of mediator which made Gary snort from poorly hidden amusement and Stiles wondered if he would have to stomp Scott on his toes to keep him from glowering. Now was not the time to be prickly about such small matters, even if it was adorable that he wanted to defend Stiles' honor. In any other situation Stiles would have been right there with him.

Once the presentations were out of the way Allison moved to stand beside her father but neither of them sat down. Stiles was beginning to feel that the whole business was ridiculous. Not the meeting in itself of course but the fact that it was treated like some silly mob meeting in a cheesy crime show. Despite the obvious tension Stiles couldn't help chuckling from amusement, which earned him a round of funny looks.

He forced himself to grin, even if Gary looked extremely judgmental and he could feel Derek placing a hand on the back of the couch, just inches from Stiles' neck. It was as clear a warning as any spoken word would have been and Stiles tried not to let it show. He wasn't trying to fuck things up, truly.

"If this is how you behave when meeting your allies I can't wait to see what you all will do when we see the actual enemy," Stiles drawled with a quirky little smile – referring to everyone in the room and not just the hunters – and to his surprise Kim barked out a laugh while Walter, Scott and Mr. Argent seemed to struggle not to smile.

"I like you," Kim declared with a grin and a wink that made Stiles blush. Derek's hand twitched.

"Old habits die hard, I guess. We have never cooperated with werewolves before," Walter offered, albeit with a softer voice and more relaxed posture. And Stiles was officially prepared to announce himself having the superpower of making people less serious. Everyone but Derek, maybe.

Walter cleared his throat.

"Now then, allow me to begin." It was formulated like a statement but there was a vague question in there somewhere and Stiles was pretty certain that Walter waited for Derek to nod before he actually continued. Stiles couldn't see said nod but the pause was too long for there not to have been some sign of agreement from Derek. "As far as we've understood you have been patrolling around the town?"

"Some of us, yes," Scott replied. "I agreed to help but the other omega wasn't as keen."

Stiles wondered if Jackson would _ever_ be keen to help but he would undoubtedly be forced to now that he was a part of the pack. Not that the hunters knew that.

"What has been your strategy so far?" Kim asked, her playfulness having vanished at the blink of an eye as soon as the real discussion started. Her grey eyes were keen and sharp and Stiles had to reconsider her presence there somewhat. He could tell that she was a force to be reckoned with.

"We've patrolled at night and focused on the parts of town bordering towards the woods. At times we've drawn closer to the centre of town but mostly we remained at the edges," Derek answered from behind Stiles and Scott.

"Have you had any confrontations with them so far?" Walter sounded thoughtful and Stiles didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

There was a moment of hesitation following Walter's question and Stiles realized that yes, they had, but Scott didn't know about it because Stiles had forgotten to tell him. Scott didn't know that the werewolves had come for Stiles three nights ago – the same night his dad got hurt – but that Derek and Boyd had scared them off. This might get ugly.

"Yes, one," Derek said eventually, deceptively calm. "The same night the sheriff and his deputies got hurt."

"You were there?" Kim asked with a frown, an adorable wrinkle appearing on her nose.

"No, this happened before that." Stiles' throat was dry but he forced himself to go on, glancing over his shoulder towards Derek without really seeing anything. "They were circling the gas station when I was there with my car."

" _What_?"

That was Scott and Stiles cringed at the shock and worry evident in his best friend's outburst. Derek quickly spoke over whatever Scott wanted to say next and Stiles gave Scott an apologetic look. He hadn't meant to keep it from Scott, there had just been too much else to think about with his dad getting hurt and the pack uniting.

"We managed to chase them off and no one got hurt," Derek stated firmly, clearly not counting whatever wounds Boyd and the other werewolf had gotten while fighting as someone getting hurt. Probably because they both must have healed from it within minutes. "We tracked all three of them for another two hours but they returned to the woods eventually. We didn't know that they backtracked and headed into town again somewhere around midnight because we were already patrolling elsewhere."

Stiles could hear how Derek hated to admit to any kind of failure, his voice strained and reluctant. The alpha was a proud being after all and while Derek seemed to reprimand Scott for thinking that he could be everywhere at once he was the same himself.

Stiles expected to feel at least a twinge of anger from hearing this – that Derek had failed to protect his dad – but strangely enough he didn't. It wasn't easy, sure, but they had tried. Derek and Boyd must have been up the entire night yet still not been able to stop it. Stiles didn't have the heart to be angry at them considering all the effort they had put into it.

"Well isn't that cute?" Gary drawled condescendingly. "Someone still got hurt, you know, so you can't have been very effective."

Stiles fought an urge to snarl back but if Derek could contain himself then Stiles could as well. Scott wasn't as mature.

"It's impossible to be everywhere at once!" Scott exclaimed, adorably enough defending Derek and Boyd's effort with as much loyalty as if it had been his own. Or perhaps even more than if it had been his own. Scott was such a good guy.

"Be that as it may you still failed," Gary replied with an unimpressed shrug.

"And where were you hunters during this?" Derek asked patiently but there was a hard edge to it this time – a slight warning that didn't pass unnoticed but was ignored all the same. Gary snorted.

"We were trying to find their hideout," Gary sneered, "because that way we will be guaranteed to find them and won't have to put our faith in chance or whatever it is that you believe in when you think that you'll be able to intercept them by running a perimeter."

"Hey! Apparently it worked at least once," Scott snapped back, clearly offended on all of their behalves.

Stiles could have sworn that Scott wanted to say something more but a small, barely noticeable movement in the corner of Stiles' eye – a small press of Derek's thumb against the curve of Scott's neck and shoulder – was all it took for him to remain silent.

Scott's expression was furious and his lips pressed into a thin line, sure, but he kept quiet. Stiles was incredibly impressed and proud in that moment because Scott wouldn't usually have listened to whatever Derek hinted at but he did this time. Either because he was a beta of the alpha's pack now or because Stiles had asked him to. Either way it showed how serious Scott was about this.

"Then what do you suggest?" Derek asked with fake politeness. Stiles didn't have to be able to see Derek to know that the alpha was getting a little frustrated. Or possibly murderous.

"Patrols should be more efficient now that we have more people," Walter offered pleasantly but Stiles wasn't fooled. The man hadn't stopped Gary from being insulting and making the situation worse so they were clearly not all that eager to have to do this treaty thing to begin with. "We could pair up one hunter with one werewolf to better utilize their respective skills."

"No." The sheer finality in Derek's tone said that he wouldn't budge on this and what could have been a frown began to settle on Walter's face before he managed to smooth it out.

"Why not?"

"Because if you think that I will leave each and every one of my betas at the mercy of you hunters then you're just being delusional. I don't trust you and that means that I certainly won't give you access to my betas," Derek all but growled, which gave Stiles the startling realization that while swooning when Scott was heroic and determined was pretty disgusting he had no such qualms about Derek. That was _hot_. Damn it.

Luckily enough everyone else in the room were busy with being serious and discussing life threatening situations to notice Stiles' little epiphany. Stiles twisted awkwardly in his seat.

"Fair enough," Walter conceded, easily enough for Stiles to suspect that they hadn't really expected Derek to agree to that suggestion anyway. "We will still be able to cover more ground. We hunters should continue to track their whereabouts in the woods while you werewolves patrol the town."

Stiles really tried not to but he couldn't keep himself from snorting in disbelief at the sheer stupidity of that suggestion. The hunters didn't seem to think that he was as cute when he made that sound this time around – probably because things were pretty serious at this point.

"You want to say something, wolf boy?" Gary drawled with a look that clearly suggested that Stiles should keep out of it. Which was pretty stupid because he had been invited to intervene when he deemed it necessary and he most certainly did right now.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do," he replied, sickeningly sweet, "because that's just bullshit. _You_ want to do the tracking when you literally have blood hounds at your disposal?"

"I'm the best tracker and I've been doing it longer than these brats have., Gary retorted, leaning forwards in a clear attempt to seem more threatening. And while it worked to a certain degree Stiles' continued exposal to Derek's menacing presence made the hunter's efforts seem quite bland in comparison. Something good could apparently come out of getting threats to your life at a regular basis.

Stiles smiled.

"Yeah, I'm sure you have, but you can't match a werewolf. They have senses that you don't and they've been living here longer than you have – they know the terrain better. You can't argue against that."

Gary seemed just about ready to do just that when Allison, of all people, spoke up.

"I agree with Stiles."

All eyes turned towards her but it was impossible to tell if the attention made her nervous, not with her straight posture and serious expression. She looked born to do this and it struck Stiles, quite suddenly, that she was. This was her element. Not even Mr. Argent tried to stop her, even if he seemed vaguely surprised that she had said anything at all.

"And why is that?" Kim asked, suddenly back in the game.

Stiles would have paid more attention to her expression and general demeanor if it hadn't been for the fact that something fleeting yet noticeable brushed against his neck. Fingers. Derek's fingers. It had to be but unlike with Scott the contact was light and soothing – praising almost. Stiles fought his urge to blush but he couldn't stop the slight shiver that travelled through him. Jesus _Christ_ Derek wasn't making this easy for him.

Still, it was nice to know that he had done something good, even if it confused the heck out of him too. Derek never had been one to give praise before. Which lead him to believe that Derek probably wasn't even aware of the action himself. So Stiles kept his gaze firmly on Allison and resolutely refused to show how much that simple touch actually affected him. He could freak out later.

"Besides from the truth in Stiles' arguments you hunters would blend in with the rest of the population much easier and through that patrol the streets better," Allison replied confidently.

"But we can't shoot them in public," Kim argued, which was a valid point.

"Just like we werewolves can't shift in public., Derek offered, clearly not prepared to let something like that slide. Derek had a point to.

"Exactly," Allison continued, "the difference here is that they fear you hunters more than they fear the Beacon Hills werewolves. If you were stationed around town that would be a better deterrent than if the werewolves did that same, because you are their confirmed enemy. You're the reason they're trying to recruit more werewolves in the first place. You have more impact."

"Not to mention long distance weapons," Stiles pushed in. "They'll hesitate to come closer, knowing that. They could always try to fight their way past a couple of werewolves but they can't deflect wolfsbane bullets."

Kim crossed her arms over her chest and Stiles was a little confused by how the chain of command had suddenly shifted with the hunters. It wasn't Walter who lead the conversation anymore. The older man was in fact looking at Kim, as if he expected her to do the talking and decision making. Stiles had the distinct feeling that he was missing something crucial.

"We would lose the progress we've made so far," Kim said stubbornly but she didn't seem impossibly so, more like she didn't want to admit that they might have to agree with the werewolves.

"And that sucks unless you actually do what we came here for and _share_ what you've found so far." Stiles couldn't help that his trademark sarcasm made an appearance. "The werewolves can pick up where you left off and do it quicker. We've been unable to search for the other pack because we've been focused on trying to protect people. Now that we're doing this together it's only reasonable to divide the two tasks between the two groups."

"And there are more benefits if the hunters were to patrol the town," Allison finished Stiles' statement.

Stiles was partial to the wolves – no one had ever questioned that – but the surprise was that Allison seemed to be as well. Scott seemed just about ready to swoon with that dorky, star-eyed look on his face. But Stiles couldn't exactly blame him. Allison was being pretty kickass at the moment.

Allison's gaze rested on Kim, as if she too knew of the shift in command. Kim was the one calling the shots even if she was younger than both Walter and Gary as far as Stiles could see.

The blonde in question seemed to consider all the information she had been given while Gary looked sullen and cranky. Walter was once again blank and unreadable.

"I have to agree with them," Mr. Argent suddenly said, surprising them all with his input. "Allison and I agreed to offer tactical advice and that is the advice I give. The werewolves have an advantage in the woods and they do have greater skill when it comes to tracking, just as you hunters have more fire power when it comes to keeping intruders out."

Stiles didn't know if it was thanks to Allison or the fact that Mr. Argent really thought that this was the best idea that he even spoke up, but his opinion clearly mattered to the other hunters. Quite a lot in fact. Stiles sometimes forgot that the Argents probably were some kind of hunter nobility.

"Very well," Kim eventually relented, although with slightly gritted teeth, "we will patrol the town and you can focus on locating the pack's hideout. We will still need some way to contact you and call another meeting if necessary."

The words were spoken in Derek's direction but Allison was the one who responded.

"Stiles and I can do that," she offered, sending Stiles a questioning look that was technically a little too late but Stiles wasn't going to say no anyway. So he just nodded instead.

"I know how to contact the werewolves and Allison knows how to contact you hunters," Stiles clarified, perhaps a little unnecessarily.

Kim gave a confirming nod and Gary seemed inches from wanting to object but apparently knew better than to go against everyone else in the room. Stiles was pretty certain that he didn't like Gary one bit.

"You are aware that we are going to kill these werewolves, right?" Kim suddenly said, eyeing Stiles and Scott in particular. Stiles could feel Scott stiffening beside him but before he had time to worry Derek replied, sounding oddly reassuring.

"But that doesn't mean that we will have to do the same," their alpha said and Stiles was secretly glad for that.

Sure, Stiles knew that Derek probably wouldn't hesitate if it ever came to that but he didn't seem to expect Scott to volunteer to do the same. Because they all knew that Scott wouldn't be able to. Stiles truly hoped that _none_ of them would be faced with that kind of decision.

"Are you saying that you'll beat them a little and hope that they won't return?" Gary sneered viciously.

"No, I'm saying that I'm not going to force my pack to kill someone against their will. Most of them haven't even reached the age of twenty yet. They don't need that one their consciences. If you suggest otherwise then I think that you should reconsider who's the monster here," Derek shot back with an almost distinguishable growl and Stiles had to fight an urge to give Derek a round of applause.

Sure, Derek had always been down with murder so the words were a slight surprise but the fact that he was willing to give his betas a choice was a clear improvement. Perhaps Isaac and Erica had volunteered to kill Lydia back when they were still trying to figure out who the kanima was – Stiles couldn't know that for sure – but he doubted that they would be keen to repeat that offer now. Derek was showing more and more promise and judging on how Scott relaxed he seemed to feel the same.

A silence fell over the room for a moment or two, during which Stiles could only assume that Derek and Gary was involved in a staring contest – one that Gary must have lost considering how he averted his gaze after a couple of heartbeats – while Kim looked disapproving. Stiles was pretty certain that Gary was the one who had misbehaved this time though.

Stiles took a shallow breath before shifting a little, until he could feel the back of Derek's fingers against his own neck. It was impossible not to notice how the alpha's hand twitched but he didn't pull away and instead let it rest there on the back of the couch, pressed against Stiles' bare skin. It was the closest thing to praise Stiles could give in their current situation but he hoped that Derek would understand what he was trying to say. Stiles really approved of this new direction Derek was taking – and he wanted Derek to know that.

The subtle touching was just a bonus. A bonus that made Stiles stomach flutter and his heart race but that was another matter entirely.

"We're not going to force you to do that," Walter soothed, a little unnecessarily because Derek seemed considerably calmer already. Stiles tried not to take credit for that but he kind of did anyway, or at least some small part of him did.

"Good," was Derek's curt reply.

Stiles cleared his throat and would have leaned forwards if it hadn't been for the fact that he would have lost the contact with Derek's hand if he did. Stiles didn't want that just yet.

"So the hunters guard the town while werewolves try to locate the hideout as well as keep the other pack away if they can. Allison and I will be the messengers," Stiles summarized, just to make sure that all of them were on the same page. It wasn't the most well-laid plan or a very detailed one but the mere fact that they had reached any kind of agreement was pretty astounding.

"If anyone sights the werewolves let the others know," Kim added, giving them all – even the Argents – urging looks. There was an obvious consensus on that and she received some scattered nods in reply. Stiles allowed himself to relax a little.

They had actually done it. They had managed to agree on a battle plan and it hadn't even been half as scary as he had imagined that it would be. Probably because he hadn't been alone this time. Stiles could still feel the back of Derek's fingers against his neck, warm and strangely comforting.

"If that is all then we should probably get going," Walter said, oddly enough reclaiming the reins now that the decisions had been made. Stiles would have to remember to ask Scott or Allison about that because it had to be some sort of hunter-thing that he wasn't privy to yet. And it drove him nuts not knowing what was going on.

Kim and Gary rose obediently from the couch and all three hunters shook hands with Mr. Argent and Allison while saying their goodbyes. No one approached Stiles this time but he wasn't exactly upset by it. It was polite, sure, but it was fake politeness and he could do without that.

There seemed to be an unspoken agreement that one group would leave before the other made to do the same so Stiles lingered on the couch, watching as the hunters were lead towards the door by Allison. Stiles was pretty sure that Kim looked over her shoulder and gave him a playful wink before she disappeared but since he wasn't certain he decided to pretend that she hadn't. It was probably better that way.

"Stiles, I would like a quick word with you in the kitchen, if you don't mind?"

Stiles head snapped up at Mr. Argent's question and even if the hunter looked kind and inviting Scott was throwing worried glances between them.

"Uh... okay," Stiles' replied hesitantly before slowly rising from the couch. Mr. Argent was – unbelievably enough – the hunter Stiles was the least afraid of but that didn't mean that he underestimated him. And he couldn't quite figure out what Mr. Argent would want to talk to him about. Especially not when Scott and Derek would be close enough to hear, so it couldn't be anything secret.

Still, to keep Scott – and perhaps Derek depending on what mood the alpha was in – from fretting Stiles decided to act casual and agree to Mr. Argent's suggestion. The two werewolves would be able to hear them in case of an emergency and Stiles didn't feel particularly threatened. Just a little wary.

He could admit that he missed the skin-on-skin contact with Derek but he was determined not to let that show. Scott gave Stiles a look that said that he would come running if anything fishy went down, which was both a relief and made Stiles all the more nervous. And it was quite ridiculous. Mr. Argent wasn't going to hurt him.

So Stiles followed Mr. Argent to the kitchen as casually as possible, where the older man wasted no time before pinning Stiles with his firm, blue gaze.

"How are you doing?"

Stiles' mouth fell open in surprise. That wasn't what he had expected. At all. He found himself soon enough though and shrugged with a small smile.

"I'm okay."

An obvious lie – one that Mr. Argent seemed to see right through but didn't question – but Stiles wasn't quite ready to spew his inner secrets to this man. Stiles liked him, in an odd, kind of reluctant way because Mr. Argent was reliable, sharp and had a good heart, but Stiles was still not stupid enough to trust him completely.

"I have something I want to give you," Mr. Argent said, apparently not pushing the issue of Stiles' health any further.

The hunter turned to one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a gun. Stiles thought that his reaction of recoiling backwards was fully understandable, just like he couldn't stop his heart rate from skyrocketing. It only took him a second to realize that he was overreacting – Chris Argent wasn't going to shoot him in the middle of the kitchen, seriously – and he quickly tried to calm his beating heart, knowing that Scott would come barging in if he sensed any danger.

Mr. Argent gave Stiles a vaguely amused look before placing the revolver on the counter.

"Sorry for the theatrics. It wasn't my intention to startle you."

"Yeah, alright." Stiles was a little breathless but proved to himself that he wasn't afraid by moving closer once more. Mr. Argent seemed to approve. Stiles wet his lips and stared at the gun. "So, uh... what?"

He knew what Mr. Argent was implying – he wasn't stupid after all – but he wasn't sure if he wanted to admit it yet. Mr. Argent's patient look said that he understood this to some degree while he casually pulled out a box containing what Stiles could only assume was bullets and placed them next to the gun.

"You are going to need protection as well," Mr. Argent said, voice serious but soothing, as if he expected Stiles to freak out.

He was absolutely right.

"Jesus Christ-... no! Are you nuts?" Stiles exclaimed while waving his arms dramatically. "You can't give an underage teenager a _gun_! It's illegal and in case you haven't noticed my _dad_ is the sheriff and oh God he would _kill_ me! I can't accept a gun! That's insane."

"Stiles, it's for your own safety."

"You are giving me a _gun_ for my _safety_? That's totally fucked up!" Stiles ranted while flailing some more. "Even if I hadn't known how to use it that's just irresponsible of you and-"

"So you know how to use it?" Mr. Argent interrupted, which made Stiles lose some of his steam.

"Uh, yeah... my dad taught me. Kinda."

He wasn't a great shot exactly but he had managed to nag his dad into letting him try a while back – under extremely regulated circumstances – so sure, he knew _how_ but he had never done it with any other intent than to hit a piece of cardboard with a bull's eye painted on it. Mr. Argent was suggesting that he use it against _people_. Werewolves, sure, but they were people too.

"I'm not telling you that you have to shoot someone, Stiles. Just that it might be good to have in case of emergencies," Mr. Argent said, apparently trying his best to calm Stiles down, and he was at least partially successful. "These are wolfsbane bullets so you only have graze them for it to be effective."

Stiles fell silent and stared at the inconspicuous little box that apparently held bullets specifically designed to kill werewolves. Stiles swallowed harshly.

"... and that would kill them." He looked up at Mr. Argent, clearly seeing the slight sadness that slowly made its way into his blue eyes.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

Stiles cleared his throat and scratched his neck nervously.

"I'm not-... I don't know if I can do that."

He joked about killing people. A lot. He knew that. But to actually do it? To be responsible for someone's death? Stiles wasn't sure if he would be able to handle that, not when he would be the sole responsible party. Helping to defeat Peter Hale had been pretty easy because he hadn't been alone and since Derek had dealt the killing blow Stiles hadn't exactly felt the need to shoulder the responsibility. But if he fired a wolfsbane bullet and infected a werewolf with its poison – something he had helped Derek live through twice now?

He wasn't sure if he could do that.

"Stiles, I understand if it's difficult," Mr. Argent said gently, "and I'm not saying that you have to use it. It's just a precaution in case you find yourself in a situation you can't talk your way out of."

There was an implied 'although I doubt that' in there somewhere and Stiles couldn't help smiling, just a little. It felt good to know that even Mr. Argent thought that Stiles had some serious skills.

Stiles took a deep breath.

"My dad won't approve. It's still illegal, no matter if it's just to protect me." And that was probably the biggest issue for Stiles, even if it might make him rather ruthless when it wasn't killing another person that put him off the most. He just didn't want to disappoint his dad again.

"I'll talk to him," Mr. Argent assured. "He's still at the hospital, right? I can call him after you leave so he'll know before you even get back. I'll take full responsibility and explain my reasoning. I doubt that he'll disagree when it's for the benefit of your safety."

Stiles hesitated but he had to admit that his dad would be more likely to listen to Mr. Argent's explanation than Stiles'. Not that Stiles was sure if he wanted to accept the gun just yet. Then again, Mr. Argent had a point.

Hadn't Stiles himself been frustrated by his lack of weapons when he had almost been attacked at the gas station? If he had had the gun he might have been able to scare the werewolves off himself. He would feel less like a defenseless obstacle if he had an actual way to defend himself. And Mr. Argent was right – he didn't _have_ to use it. Scaring the werewolves would hopefully be enough.

"Okay," Stiles relented after a moment of hesitation. He met Mr. Argent's gaze and nodded. "I'll accept it. But only for emergencies."

"That's what it's for," Mr. Argent replied before pushing the revolver and bullets towards Stiles.

After a brief struggle with his conscience Stiles accepted the two items. The gun felt heavy and cold in his hand but he didn't feel repulsed by it. Apprehensive and a little worried, yes, but it was meant to be a tool for protection, not to hurt people. As long as he remembered that he would be okay.

"Thank you," he hastened to add, because he was pretty certain that wolfsbane bullets weren't easy to come by but Mr. Argent was willing to give them to him, even if he might waste them on crappy shots. It probably meant quite a lot to be given this.

Mr. Argent gave him an encouraging smile and patted him on the shoulder. Stiles thought that he would be opposed to that gesture of familiarity and support but it actually felt rather good.

"Now you better go and calm Scott down. I imagine that he's a little worried."

Stiles froze for a moment, actually having forgotten that Scott must have heard the entire conversation, and quickly made his way back to the living room when his body finally caught up with his brain.

Scott did indeed seem quite worried when Stiles returned but Allison was there to calm him. She gave Stiles a sad but determined smile – which showed that she must have been keyed in on what her dad was talking to Stiles about – and he gave her a weak one in return. He tried his best to hide the gun and bullets in the pockets of his hoodie but was only partly successful. Scott seemed to fight an urge to ask whether Stiles was okay.

It wasn't until Stiles' gaze travelled over the room that he noticed what was missing. He frowned.

"Where's Derek?"

Scott looked a little sheepish, of all things.

"Uh... he left. A short while ago."

Stiles tried not to feel both disappointed and a little insulted by that. Derek had left while Stiles was still in the kitchen discussing guns and murder with a terrifying hunter? Well, that was thoughtful of him. Not to mention that Stiles had hoped to be able to get some of his questions answered. That wouldn't happen now.

He pretended that the disappointment didn't affect him as much as it actually did.

"Okay then," he said instead, tone light and careless, as if he didn't give a fuck about where Derek was and that he had left without as much as a word. Derek did that a lot, after all, and Stiles wasn't really sure why he had expected the alpha to behave differently this time. Nothing had really changed.

"I'll talk to your dad," Mr. Argent said while placing a reassuring hand on Stiles' shoulder. Stiles looked at the man and nodded with a thankful smile.

"I'll show you to the door," Allison offered, looking from Scott to Stiles, and while that was very polite of her Stiles suspected that what she really wanted was to spend more time with Scott.

Sure enough, as soon as Stiles and Scott had said their goodbyes to her father and left the living room the two love birds twined their fingers together while Allison lead them towards the front door. Stiles wanted to roll his eyes at how pathetically impossible the two of them were. Allison and Scott were clearly incapable of not being together. Still, it was adorable. And Stiles wasn't going to complain if more good things came out of their evening.

So instead of teasing them about it he pretended that he didn't see it at all and said goodbye to Allison with a grin and a wave. It felt safe and normal – like he hadn't lost her friendship completely – and he felt lighter at heart than he thought possible while he still had the weight of a gun in his pocket. She seemed to feel the same and her responding smile was brighter than it had been in months.

Stiles had really missed her smile.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wonders why Derek is surprisingly nice to his pack here I want to remind you that he has personally told the sheriff about werewolves. He might be a bit stupid at times but he's not enough of an idiot not to realise that he can't keep pushing for violence with the sheriff in the know. Hence his new approach to the whole 'killing people'-thing. And I honestly think that he's changing too, slowly but surely.
> 
> Things are moving forward! Woho!
> 
> My beta, [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum), asked me why on earth I bother to call this pre-slash considering all the slashy-action in this chapter. I claim absolute innocence.  
> ... but I AM a sucker for subtle touching.


	5. Pack Activities

 

* * *

 

Returning to the hospital with a gun in his pocket was just as bad as Stiles imagined that it would be. His dad was not pleased, but Mr. Argent must have been very persuasive because it was obvious that Stiles' dad had reluctantly agreed to let Stiles keep it. But only after a thorough lesson in how to handle the gun in question – which was one of the most passive aggressive demonstrations Stiles had ever witnessed – and a promise that Stiles would use it only in extreme cases. Stiles was completely fine with that.

He would never even have thought of asking for a gun so he wasn't going to go shoot-crazy now that he had one. He was in fact very tempted to just hide the thing in his desk at home and forget all about it and would have done so if it hadn't been for the fact that it would be a sadly ineffective way to protect himself. Until he had grown used to the idea he decided to stash it in the backpack Scott had brought his clothes in.

There was an obvious lack of werewolf babysitters in Stiles' dad's room when they got back, which was brushed aside with a shrug and a half assed explanation from his father. Apparently his dad hadn't wanted the poor teenagers to sit there all evening so he had sent them home, after firm assurances that he would be fine. Stiles didn't like it but he couldn't exactly blame them either. Having guards placed at the hospital was perhaps a little redundant after all since the other pack had made no attempt to hurt his dad again.

Stiles had still given his dad a dirty look and looked suitably cranky. He just wanted what was best for his dad, nothing else.

After Stiles' dad had made sure that both Stiles and Scott were okay – and asked a fair share about the recent developments with the hunters and werewolves – they were free to go back to the McCall house to get some sleep. Stiles was thankful that they let him stay there for another couple of nights even if he would have to return home to gather some new clothes pretty soon. He just kept postponing it because he didn't feel all that tempted to return to the empty house without his dad. And Scott didn't mind the company in the least, not even now when Allison was giving him some attention again.

The following day Scott decided that he could take a day off no matter what Stiles thought about it and Deaton apparently agreed since he allowed it without any kind of fuzz. So Stiles returned to the hospital with Scott in tow and his dad was very pleased to see them in one piece – as if Stiles would have had time to shoot them both in the hours they had been gone. Stiles felt rather insulted by his father's lack of faith in him, but then again, he wasn't exactly notoriously coordinated.

His dad kept eyeing the backpack that Stiles now took with him back and forth between the hospital and the McCall house instead of just dumping it in his dad's room, clearly not all too pleased about the gun that was stored there. Stiles had asked Scott about the bullets the previous evening because they didn't seem to cause the same violent reaction of wolfyness that the actual flower had done, but Scott didn't know any more about it than Stiles did.

Sure, Scott's eyes flashed golden every now and then and he was a little more fidgety than usual but it was nothing that wasn't fixed when Stiles placed the backpack as far from Scott as he could. The wolfsbane didn't seem to have as strong effect when it wasn't fresh – until you introduced it into a werewolf's bloodstream, at least.

Stiles' dad continued to question them back and forth about various details he was uncertain about and Scott and Stiles did their best to answer. There was a lot of information to catch up on and it was obvious that Stiles' dad thought that if he was going to have werewolves within his county – even friendly ones – then he was going to know what they were all about.

Stiles was just in the middle of explaining werewolf healing, with some useful input from Scott, when there was a knock on the door. Without even knowing that he did so Stiles glanced towards Scott, as if to confirm that it wasn't a murderous werewolf on the other side. Why they would knock instead of just barging in was not something he actually considered.

Scott seemed calm though, if a little confused, before he rose from his chair and walked over to the door. Stiles understood his surprise the moment the door opened and revealed a bored looking Jackson on the other side. That was something Stiles had never expected to see and his expression must have shown as much. Jackson seemed to adopt a mask of forced politeness but there was no hiding all that contempt. It wasn't a good look on him.

"Hi?"

Only Scott could make a greeting sound like a question that flawlessly, as if he thought that Jackson had somehow knocked on the wrong door. Stiles could literally see how Jackson held back his impulse to respond with something insulting and rude and Stiles was actually surprised by the effort. He doubted that it was because of his dad's presence, because Jackson had been a brat towards him too in the past. No, it had to be something else, probably relating to the pack.

"I'm here to pick you up," Jackson gritted out between clenched teeth. It was clear as day that he didn't appreciate being any kind of messenger or chauffeur. Which naturally meant that Stiles loved it.

"You are?" Scott sounded genuinely confused because neither of them had heard anything about something they were supposed to be attending.

"Derek wants us to gather at the train depot."

One could have thought that Jackson was in physical pain when he spoke, as if admitting that he was there on someone else's command hurt his very existence. And in a sense Stiles could understand that, with Jackson's lingering fear of being controlled and all, but the expression on Jackson's face seemed to hint more towards damaged pride than any kind of fear. Which was good. Considering.

The entire thing was probably a test too, devised by Derek to see if Jackson really was going to be a team player and do as asked. A little hypocritical considering that Derek was the worst team mate of them all, but Stiles understood the necessity of it none the less. They had to be united and ready to follow Derek's command. Which would be a challenge in more ways than one.

Jackson seemed to understand the implications of his orders just as well as Stiles did, which was probably why he remained at least relatively civil. Everything was relative when it came to Jackson.

"Why does he want us to meet?" Stiles asked while getting up from his chair. A part of him wanted to tease Jackson for being sent to pick them up but he knew that it would do more harm than good. Putting the welfare of the pack before his own enjoyment seemed to be the responsible thing to do.

"He didn't say," Jackson replied, a little easier now that he noticed that neither Scott nor Stiles intended to ridicule him for being there. "I assume it's about the-..." There was a slight hesitation and it seemed as if Jackson had to swallow down some kind of emotion or reaction he didn't want to show. "... the pack. Perhaps something about our plans or whatever. I don't care."

But it was clear as day that Jackson actually did care, even if he tried to play it all off as unimportant with a casual shrug and a roll of his eyes. Stiles could understand that to some degree. Jackson wasn't the captain of the lacrosse team only because he was good at the sport and could bully people until they stepped in line – he actually had some leadership skills too. But he never seemed particularly eager to let other people know about it.

Stiles knew few people as motivated and driven as Jackson and with that kind of drive you often developed a need for control. A need to make sure that things were organized, functional and as close to perfection as possible. Jackson had been a dominant person his entire life so of course he cared what was going on and how they were going to handle it – if only because he demanded absolute perfection in everything he partook in – but his sense of pride got in the way of him admitting it. Jackson's better instincts always seemed to be smothered by his emotions and obsessive need to be the best at everything. It was a shame really. But perhaps he would grow out of it eventually.

"Well..." Stiles hesitated, throwing a glance in his father's direction – who sighed while rolling his eyes.

"Go, Stiles," his dad said patiently.

"But what if-" Stiles began to protest.

"No, nothing is going to happen. You should take this opportunity before I change my mind about the whole thing. I'm still not pleased about having you teenagers involved in this."

His dad eyed all three of them, which seemed to make Jackson slightly uncertain on what to reply.

"I'm sure it's nothing big," Scott said, ever the optimist. But he might actually be right this time.

There was a possibility that Derek called a pack meeting because he wanted everyone to know about the agreement with the hunters. Stiles tried to deny that the sheer ridiculousness of the term 'pack meeting' made him want to giggle. It wasn't that he didn't think that they were a pack, oh no, but the words conjured up images of all too ridiculous scenarios that were outrageously out of character for most members of the small pack. Stiles couldn't resist his urge to file those thoughts away for later, should he get bored within the nearest future.

"Okay. We'll go," Stiles relented without much argument. It wasn't as if he _didn't_ want to go after all. No, he was curious as hell and if it required trusting his dad to take care of himself for a couple of hours to experience whatever Derek had in store for them, well, Stiles could do that. Stiles' dad was a grown man after all – the sheriff even – and Mrs. McCall wasn't far either.

"Well then, get a move on," Jackson drawled, clearly not a very patient chauffeur.

Stiles glanced towards the backpack placed off in one corner, his dad following his gaze with a slight downturn of his mouth. But Stiles knew better than to bring a gun loaded with wolfsbane bullets to a meeting full of werewolves. Besides, if anything actually _did_ happen at the hospital while he was gone his dad wasn't left completely defenseless. Stiles would be surrounded by supernatural creatures after all, so he didn't need the extra protection.

Stiles herded Scott towards the door after a goodbye-smile in his dad's direction but to his surprise Jackson lingered in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. Then he seemed to gather his resolve and straightened his back.

"I hope you get better soon," Jackson said with a surprising amount of honesty.

Stiles didn't realize that it had to be directed towards his father until he heard his dad's surprised but thankful reply. But before Stiles had time to question the sudden act of politeness Jackson had already turned and stalked away, leaving Stiles and Scott standing there in confusion and disbelief.

Stiles gave Scott a wide eyed look that Scott returned with one of his own, until the young werewolf shrugged with some sort of bewildered acceptance. Things really were changing – some of them for the better.

 

 

Squeezing into the backseat of Jackson's Porsche was an agonizingly uncomfortable experience – an opinion that Stiles voiced loudly and with as much scorn as he possibly could. At least until Jackson started threatening to drive them off the road because it was undoubtedly Stiles who would take most damage from that considering that he was the only one currently not in possession of super healing. He shut his mouth after that, wisely enough, because he was quite sure that Jackson was wealthy enough to buy another Porsche without problem even if he happened to crash this one.

Whatever petulance Stiles was feeling after this treatment gave way for surprise when they pulled up next to the train depot and found Danny and Lydia casually leaning against Lydia's parked car. Derek's Camaro stood a bit further away but apart from that there were no signs of anyone else being there besides Danny and Lydia. Which was still confusing to Stiles.

Jackson didn't seem the least bit surprised however and instead just climbed out of the car to join them. Scott, bless him, was kind enough to linger and make sure that Stiles got out of the Porsche without pulling something.

"I see that when you said 'us' you really meant everybody," Stiles pointed out when he and Scott finally managed to join the other three, despite the small limp Stiles had gotten from the uncomfortable seating arrangements. Jackson just shrugged.

"Yes, apparently token humans are invited as well," Danny replied with a small chuckle, obviously much more confident and at ease with the whole werewolf thing after he had gotten some time to calm down from the shock. Lydia seemed insulted to be called token _anything_ but Stiles was a little too focused on being happy that Danny acknowledged his existence – Danny even gave him a smile in greeting – to notice her displeasure.

"Can we get this over with? I have better things to do with my time," Lydia sniped while crossing her arms over her chest. She seemed to be gazing around them while wrinkling her nose in distaste. "Like a nice, cleansing bubble bath."

Stiles snorted while Jackson looped his arm around her shoulders and began leading them towards the entrance of the abandoned building.

"Wait until you see the inside," Stiles sniggered with poorly hidden glee. "You're gonna love the décor."

"I've been here before," she shot back sharply and Stiles floundered for a moment before he remembered that she had even explained it to him.

He instantly felt guilty about reminding her of the mental anguish she had been forced to live through at the hands of Peter Hale, but he never got the chance to apologize as all of them made their way down the rickety staircase. She didn't seem particularly interested in discussing it in front of the others anyway so Stiles let it be.

Erica seemed delighted to see them – or delighted to see Stiles at least – while Boyd and Isaac chose a more laid back approach to greet them as they arrived. Stiles couldn't see Derek but he knew better than to assume that meant that the alpha wasn't there. He was probably hiding behind a train cart to make a dramatic entrance, as per usual.

Stiles was proven at least partially right when Derek walked out from one of the rusty carts without any kind of flair or theatrics. But he _had_ been in direct contact with one of the train carts. Small victories, oh yes.

It was clear that none of them – with the exception of Derek, hopefully – knew what they were supposed to do there, so Stiles made no attempt to start a conversation for once. Danny looked both a little confused and repulsed by the room they found themselves in but he didn't speak up either.

Derek was the first to talk.

"We're going to focus our efforts on finding the other pack's hideout and patrol the woods," their alpha stated without preamble, clearly jumping straight to business. Then again, this was Derek so Stiles hadn't expected anything else. Just like he wasn't surprised that Derek didn't offer them to sit down or any other show of politeness. There wasn't much comfort to be had in the train depot, granted, but he didn't even make an effort.

"And the hunters?" Boyd asked calmly.

"They will try to make sure that no one else gets hurt. Should the werewolves slip past us the hunters will be out on the streets protecting the people," Derek replied, before he proceeded to give a short and surprisingly efficient summary of the meeting from the previous night. Stiles was impressed that Derek managed to do it in about four concise sentences.

Danny didn't seem to know what he was supposed to do with the information – which was completely understandable considering how new he was to the whole thing – but Derek didn't seem to expect anything out of him either way. The alpha spent most of his time looking at Scott or his baby betas in fact, almost completely ignoring the humans and Jackson. Stiles wasn't surprised but that didn't mean that he had to like it either.

Stiles had moved to sit down on an overturned crate during Derek's explanation, Scott leaning against its side with his arms crossed and a contemplative look on his face. Boyd sat on another, firm like a brick wall despite the fact that Erica was practically sprawled across his lap like she owned the place – and maybe she did – while Isaac stood next to them. Jackson, Lydia and Danny were clearly the most uncomfortable but it was only natural because they were all fairly unaccustomed to dealing with Derek or his betas.

"Allison and I are going to function as messengers between the two groups so if you see or hear anything suspicious let me know and I'll spread it to the hunters," Stiles added went Derek seemed mostly done talking. If he might have half interrupted the alpha, well, he wasn't particularly sorry. Not even when Derek pressed his lips together and gave him a pointed look. Stiles feigned innocence.

"So what exactly are we supposed to do?" Jackson asked, his impatience shining through.

He still had his arm around Lydia, who was looking uncharacteristically uncertain and was surprisingly quiet. Stiles guessed that she didn't know whether to expect Derek to want revenge for what she had done when resurrecting Peter or not, but Stiles was pretty certain that she had nothing to worry about. Derek held grudges, yes, but it had been Peter's fault, not Lydia's. Besides, the alpha barely looked at her anyway.

" _You_ need to learn how to track," Derek replied and pointed at Jackson, before turning towards the beta pile. "And you three need to learn how to fight better as a unit."

And Stiles was sorely tempted to point out that Derek needed to learn some manners but for once held his tongue. It was wiser not to start undermining Derek's authority before they even began. Things were still a bit rocky and Stiles actually wanted them to be able to cooperate.

Jackson seemed thoroughly insulted to have it pointed out that he was bad at something but Danny showed nothing but amusement. Danny was awesome.

"What about me?" Scott asked, not eager perhaps but looking a little left out if anything.

"You help Jackson."

"What? I don't need help from _him_!" Jackson spluttered, letting go of Lydia in favor of taking a step towards Derek. A menacing step that might have been effective against other teenagers but Derek looked utterly unimpressed. Scott seemed uncertain who he was supposed to root for. Stiles was with Derek but that was mainly because he had a thing for seeing Jackson being put in his place.

"I don't care," Derek replied without as much as a twitch or change in his tone. "You're going to get it either way."

Jackson seemed to want to argue but to everyone's surprise Lydia placed a barely restraining hand on his arm and gave her boyfriend a calm, level look. Whatever communication passed between them was beyond Stiles but the result was that Jackson relaxed and took a step back again. He still looked grumpy but then again, when didn't he?

Derek said nothing more on the subject and instead directed Isaac, Erica and Boyd to clear a wide open space amongst all the rubble and trash littering the floor. Stiles gave Scott an encouraging pat on the shoulder – heedless of the murderous look Jackson gave them both – before pushing his best friend in Jackson's direction.

Stiles wasn't quite sure what he felt about being excluded on accounts of being human – because it was obvious that the training session that was to follow was werewolves only – but at least they were making some kind of progress. Preparing the forces for battle was often as important as the battle itself.

Jackson grumbled something under his breath before pulling off his jacket and handing it over to Lydia. Stiles was a little confused over the action until Lydia strode over to the crate Stiles was sitting on, spread out Jackson's jacket over the space left next to him and sat down. She hadn't even said anything – Jackson had just done it out of reflex. Stiles wasn't sure whether to be afraid or impressed.

Danny sauntered over to join them, all three humans observing the werewolves with varying expressions. Stiles mostly felt bored and paid very little attention to whatever Derek was telling the three betas. They had been wise enough to clear and area quite far from the residing humans because whatever training was about to commence Stiles guessed that it was going to be rough. And he was absolutely right.

Stiles wasn't sure what kind of training it was but it looked more like Derek was beating the crap out of his betas without really offering any kind of constructive criticism. Stiles had to literally bite his tongue not to interrupt and start complaining. He didn't know all that much about being an actual werewolf but he had a hard time believing that _anyone_ could learn by trial and error when they weren't being given any hints as to when they were doing right or wrong.

He let them continue for now though, partly because he didn't have much to offer but also because he knew that if he let Derek try for a while and notice that it wasn't working he would most likely be more inclined to agree to some changes. He just hoped that Isaac, Erica and Boyd wouldn't get too bruised in the meantime. This early in the proceedings they seemed more annoyed at their own failures rather than hurt though, which was a relief. They had determination, he had to give them that much.

It was more entertaining to see Scott trying to explain how to pick up a scent to an obviously uninterested Jackson. Well, that was until Scott – being the secretly sneaky person that he sometimes was – proclaimed that it was probably too difficult for Jackson anyway so they might as well not bother. That got Jackson interested, motivated and pissed off all in one go.

Stiles held back a laugh while Danny rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed by his best friend's childish behavior. But it worked and Jackson was suddenly the most avid student Scott would ever teach. Not that Scott was able to offer practical demonstrations.

It would undoubtedly have been more efficient if they had been able to be outside for the tracking because the space in the train depot was limited, but going to the woods would mean a bigger chance of running into the other werewolves. They couldn't risk that, not while they were still learning. Scott could at least give some pointers and then Jackson would have to improvise when let out into the wild.

Stiles fingered with the hem of his t-shirt and observed the two small groups of werewolves with a thoughtful look on his face. Lydia seemed to notice his contemplative mood but she didn't ask, clearly more keen on keeping an eye on Jackson than listening to Stiles' thoughts. It wasn't particularly productive thoughts anyway.

He was infinitely glad that things were beginning to shape up and that Scott seemed committed to the whole pack thing. Stiles had been genuinely worried that Scott would be as indecisive as he usually was concerning his place in the pack but his willingness to obey Derek during the meeting with the hunters – despite his obvious dislike at having to do so – proved otherwise. There was definitely some fine tuning left but they were heading in the right direction.

Stiles couldn't help feeling a little like a babysitter as he watched the werewolves go about their training. It might be because Isaac and Erica kept throwing him glances every now and then when they had one to spare – and sometimes when they didn't, which earned them a slap at the back of their heads from Derek for their lack of attention – or because he had been one of the driving forces when it came to uniting them.

It was awesome to see it all in motion. Sure, Derek was still rough around the edges and clearly needed to learn a thing or two from Scott but when Stiles looked out over the train depot he felt strangely at ease. All the rust and filth wasn't as apparent anymore because he had other things to focus on. Like the fact that they were all there as one pack.

He glanced at Lydia and then Danny, the latter half leaning, half sitting against the edge of Stiles' crate. Having other humans around was going to feel pretty good too. They might not be able to offer much in terms of fighting and strength but all three of them were sharp, intelligent people. And if you counted Allison – which Stiles boldly did now that she had shown that she was prepared to put her grudges against Derek aside in this time of need – then they were definitely a force to be reckoned with.

They weren't the most stable or biggest pack but Stiles was pretty certain that once they were able to mesh all their different personalities and strengths they could actually do some pretty serious damage. Or in this case prevent it from happening.

He might be a mushy dork for thinking it but Stiles had faith in his pack. They were going to pull through somehow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The entire pack in one place! Whoop! No, I'm not counting Peter and no, he isn't lurking in there somewhere, even if it WOULD be something he would do. He's probably off giving teenage girls fashion advice or something. He seems fond of that. 
> 
> I'm pretty certain that most of you are going to love the next chapter. Just saying.
> 
> Thank you once again to my lovely, adorable beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum).
> 
> You can find me over at my [Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/) if you have any questions!


	6. Fracture

 

* * *

 

Watching the werewolves play around soon lost its novelty. Sure, Stiles liked awesome action as much as the next guy but for each pained little whine from the baby betas and exasperated sigh from Derek Stiles grew more and more antsy. He wanted to intervene somehow but he knew for a fact that Derek was better at fighting than he was so it was difficult to find the necessary arguments to actually do something about it.

Scott seemed quite displeased as well but kept to his given task of teaching Jackson about tracking. Jackson seemed to be fairing quite well judging on the praising smiles Scott kept giving him, and Jackson could pretend all he wanted but Stiles could see that at least some part of him liked the compliments. It would probably be easier to touch the moon than to make Jackson admit it though.

Stiles was so deep into his thoughts that he almost missed Danny's question, not having expected to hear either of the other two humans talk. They had mostly seemed content to watch the training.

"Why are we even here?" Danny didn't look anywhere near as bored as Stiles felt but he was definitely smart enough to question their presence at the train depot. Derek must have specifically asked for them to come after all, since Stiles doubted that Jackson would have taken the initiative to bring his girlfriend and best friend otherwise. But they weren't exactly being useful.

At first glance at least.

"I think we're motivation," Stiles replied thoughtfully, offering the other two a casual shrug when they gave him doubtful looks. "Especially Jackson needs a reminder why he's doing this, otherwise he might stop cooperating." Stiles gestured towards where Scott and Jackson were discussing something with heated words and animated gestures. "He's here because of you two. To protect you. If you're here – where he can see you – he's less likely to storm off. Or at least that's why I would want you here."

"That and making sure that we're all equally informed," Lydia supplied briskly before tossing some curls over her shoulder. "Besides, there is a lot we can do that they can't."

Stiles began to laugh but choked on it when receiving a withering glare from Lydia. She wasn't joking.

"So far I haven't been able to gather much new information from the beastiary but it's only a matter of time before I find something we can use," she explained while observing her nails casually, despite the double take Stiles did thanks to her words.

"Wait. The beastiary? Argent's beastiary? You're still translating it?"

"Of course I am," Lydia replied with an impatient eye roll. "There is a lot of knowledge to be found in there. I'm not going to let it go to waste." She smiled sweetly but it always came off as a little bitchy when she did. "It's just a relaxing little project I keep on the side."

Only Lydia would consider translating archaic Latin on her spare time as relaxing. Stiles was envious.

"Okay. That's... helpful. But that's just you. What about me and Danny?" Stiles frowned.

"Well, Danny could work on hacking into the security cameras scattered around town. Most of the footage is digitally stored or at least digitally transferred so tapping in shouldn't be too hard," Lydia replied as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

"Hang on." Danny held up a hand. "Even if I could do that – not saying that I will – I'm not exactly up for sitting there staring at surveillance footage all hours of the day on the off chance that I might catch them in the act."

Lydia pursed her lips and sighed, as if the two boys next to her were being particularly thick. Stiles thought that was a little unfair because he had behaved well the last couple of minutes.

"I'm not telling you to either. But there's a chance that they might get caught on the same camera a couple of times. And if they are..." she trailed off, as if wanting either of them to fill in what she was leading them towards. Stiles did not disappoint.

"... then we might be able to get better clues as to where they're hiding, how they sneak into town and where to place the hunters to keep them out."

Lydia smiled and patted Stiles' cheek in approval, which should have made his heart jump but only caused a slight little blip. He felt more pride at the thought of her complimenting his intelligence than he felt excited over her having touched him. Strange.

"Not to mention that we, unlike the brutes over there-" Lydia nodded towards Derek and the betas, just in time to see Isaac getting thrown onto the ground with a little more force than necessary "-have brains. And phones that we hesitate to break. If Stiles is already going to be a messenger between the werewolves and hunters we might as well make sure that we have some within the group as well. They need to be informed when we get news."

Danny raised an eyebrow.

"But I don't know anyone besides Jackson and I'm pretty certain you have that covered."

"Then you better start working on that, don't you?" Lydia shot back, voice sickeningly sweet. Danny rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed by Lydia's attempts to boss him around.

"Hey, you play lacrosse with Isaac and Boyd is going to try out for the team in the fall," Stiles offered helpfully. "It might actually help to get to know them a little better. Just make sure to grab a couple of phone numbers before you leave or something."

Danny didn't seem convinced but didn't argue either, so Stiles assumed that he was at least partly on board.

"... and look into that surveillance camera thing," Stiles added. "It sounded pretty awesome."

A heavy sigh and a nonchalant, dismissing wave was all Stiles received as a reply but even that could be taken as a yes. He hoped it was a yes. Lydia looked pleased so he guessed that it was a yes.

"But I take it that we're not going to be doing any of the dangerous stuff," Danny said, not even bothering to formulate it as a real question. Stiles chuckled and rubbed his neck.

"No, definitely not." Stiles leaned forwards, resting his elbows against his knees. "Or, well, we're not expected to but we have to be prepared for it anyway. Despite being superhuman these puppies are notorious for getting into trouble they can't get out of on their own. So be prepared to jump in if anything happens... but be careful not to get hurt."

Danny nodded softly, gaze resting on Jackson who had calmed once more and was currently trying to pinpoint smells without sight, if his closed eyes and concentrated expression was anything to go by.

"And what if the opposite happens? What if the danger comes for us humans?" Lydia asked crisply, drawing more than her fellow humans' attention.

Up until then neither of the werewolves had acknowledged their conversation but those words seemed to cause a certain amount of worry. Jackson's eyes snapped open and locked with Lydia's while Scott looked hesitantly – guiltily almost – at Stiles. Even the three betas halted and threw a glance in their direction. Derek was the only one not bothered by the question and seemed agitated to have been interrupted.

"I'm working on something," Stiles said, which might be a bit premature but he _did_ have an idea he had been playing around with for a while.

It wasn't going to help them fight but it could definitely help the humans should they be faced with a threat they couldn't run from or outwit. Because not all of them could have guns with wolfsbane bullets.

Derek slapped the back of Isaac's head to catch his betas' attention and force them back in line for more demonstrations and sparring. Scott and Jackson lingered a little longer however, even if neither of them seemed to want to offer a response.

"And what might that something be?" Lydia questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Stiles just grinned.

"Telling you would just take the fun out of surprising you with my brilliance later."

Lydia rolled her eyes but didn't seem particularly offended by Stiles blatant evasion tactic. There was even a small smile curling on her lips and Stiles was infinitely pleased to have been the one who placed it there.

Stiles was just about to bother Lydia for some further conversation when a sudden crunching sound echoed in the room, followed by a loud, agonized scream. Stiles' gaze snapped to the fighting werewolves only to see Derek with his hand wrapped tightly around Erica's forearm, which was currently bent in an extremely awkward angle. The alpha had an odd expression of patient disapproval on his face while Erica whimpered in pain.

Stiles had jumped down from the crate before he even registered it himself, instinctively wanting to come to Erica's aid even if she was fully capable of taking care of herself. His priorities shifted drastically though when Scott suddenly materialized next to Derek, having moved from the other end of the room with such swiftness that no one really saw it happen, and gave the alpha a violent push.

Derek let go of Erica's arm and took two steps backwards, probably more from surprise than any actual force that Scott managed to put behind his push.

"Are you nuts?!" Scott roared, giving the alpha another shove while Erica skittered back to avoid getting caught up between them.

Isaac and Boyd had already inched away, clearly hesitant on what to do and Stiles bit back a curse before rushing forwards, heedless of what he might actually be getting himself into.

"You can't just keep breaking people's arms when they don't do as you say!" Scott shouted while taking a step closer to Derek, as if to push him again. Derek matched the step, both of the werewolves' faces transformed and menacing, apparently ready to brawl it out right then and there.

This if anything should have made Stiles hesitate but instead of drawing back when Derek and Scott seemed just about ready to lunge at each other he dove in between them.

"Cut it out!" he yelled sharply.

Scott was the first to freeze when Stiles placed the entire length of his right forearm against Scott's chest to hold him back but Derek was admirably quick to stop as well when he practically ran into Stiles' outstretched hand. The impact jarred Stiles' arm but since the alpha screeched to a halt as soon as he realized that Stiles was suddenly in between them Stiles came out of it surprisingly unharmed.

A breathless moment passed in the train depot before Stiles started cursing.

"Jesus _Christ_! Can the two of you get along for at least an _hour_?!" he hissed, glaring at Scott – who looked mildly apologetic – and Derek, who just stared back with menacing, red eyes.

"He's the idiot!" Scott growled, gesturing towards Derek. Despite Scott's obvious anger his face was slowly returning to normal, but Stiles made sure to keep his arm blocking the way just for a little while longer. Which proved to be a good thing when Scott continued to test Derek's patience. "He's a violent brute! You can't just break people's arms like that!"

Derek made an attempt to step closer while Stiles did his best to hold him back with the hand already placed firmly against the alpha's chest. He could almost feel the deep rumble of a disapproving growl against his palm but Derek did stop. He didn't look pleased though, with his jaw clenched tight and eyes flashing.

"It's none of your business how I-" Derek began but he was never allowed to finish before Scott interrupted him.

"I'm pack now! It _is_ my business when you hurt my pack mates!" Scott pointed towards Erica, who was looking better already thanks to her super healing, but it was obvious that she was uncomfortable with what was going down on her behalf. "An alpha can't act like this!"

A feral, furious growl echoed in the train depot and Stiles could not believe that he was still standing like a human wall between Derek and Scott when the alpha was making _that_ kind of sound. Derek raised a hand as if to push Stiles out of the way but since Stiles saw it coming he had time to twist and place both of his hands against Derek's chest while futilely trying to push him back.

"Derek! Stop!"

Stiles wasn't sure if he sounded as panicked as he felt but by some kind of miracle Derek froze and didn't push further. The alpha's gaze snapped from Scott and Stiles did his best to meet it, despite the chill it sent down his spine. The transformed werewolf faces weren't particularly scary anymore but there was still something eerie about looking straight at them like this, recognizing the person underneath but yet not quite being able to tell if it really was them.

Derek was staring at him unflinchingly and Stiles held that red gaze despite the blatant challenge the alpha might see that as. Well, he did so at least until he saw some kind of recognition in Derek's eyes and knew that the alpha wouldn't lunge for Scott again. Then Stiles lowered his gaze and breathed out a trembling sigh.

Derek was warm under his palms, even through the fabric of his black t-shirt, and Stiles was slightly mesmerized by how his hands moved in time with the alpha's breaths. His fingers twitched.

"Jus-"

"Shut the fuck up, Scott!" Stiles snarled before his best friend got any further. "You're only making things worse! Back off! Both of you!"

He didn't push, knowing that he might lose limbs if he did but after a tense moment Derek finally drew backwards, until Stiles could lower his hands. They were shaking pretty badly at that point but no one seemed to notice.

A heavy silence settled in the train depot.

"Fuck," Stiles breathed through almost clenched teeth. He held up a hand to prevent Scott from talking – Stiles knew that his best friend was just inches from it – and took a deep breath. "Fuck. You are just so fucking stupid! Both of you! Don't you understand that fighting isn't going to solve anything? You're just making things worse! All the time!"

He fought his urge to stomp his foot like a five year old and instead gave both werewolves a scolding glare. Erica was back on her feet, looking quite fine, but everyone in the room were tense and on edge. Stiles missed the exact moment Derek's face morphed back to normal but he was infinitely glad that it had. The alpha's eyes still burned crimson but he seemed a little calmer now.

"I was just trying to-"

"No! Scott! _Shut up_!" Stiles nearly screamed.

He was so sick of Derek and Scott constantly being at each other's throats and endangering others because they couldn't control their tempers.

Scott looked suitably reprimanded and something that could have been smugness flashed past on Derek's face, which only served to make Stiles more upset. Before he had time to stop himself he had slapped Derek on the chest as if he was a misbehaving child. The alpha looked completely stunned.

"Stop it! You're not any better! Scott is right – you _have_ to stop breaking people's arms. Even if it is to help them."

"What?" Scott asked, completely baffled, clearly forgetting that he was forbidden to speak. "How can breaking someone's arm help them?"

Stiles groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, so not in the mood for explaining small details to Scott. Luckily enough he didn't have to because Lydia chose to do it for him. Jackson seemed to want to hold her back from stepping closer to the arguing werewolves but Lydia did what Lydia wanted.

"The healing. Stiles explained that bigger wounds kick start it, which makes the smaller fractures and bruises heal faster. Like a tidal wave sweeping away the pain, instead of just a trickling stream." Lydia's voice was calm and even but it was obvious that she was just as worried and shaken as the rest of them judging on her stiff posture. "Breaking an arm might be painful for a couple of seconds but it makes everything heal faster and essential cuts the total amount of time spent in suffering to a minimum."

" _Yes_. Exactly." Stiles gestured with both hands towards Lydia, as if to put emphasis on her words and how awesome she was. Everybody in the room could learn something from Lydia.

"... really?" Scott blinked stupidly before staring at Derek as if seeing him for the first time.

Isaac and Erica seemed rather surprised at the revelation too, but Boyd had this look that suggested that he might have suspected it without anyone having to explain it to him. The alpha, amusingly enough, looked _uncomfortable_.

"Dude! Yes, Scott! Derek said so himself!" Stiles flailed his arms before huffing in annoyance. "Not that it makes up for it. Breaking people's arms is brutal and evil and it really has to stop, but at least there's more to it than you think. Isn't that right, Derek?"

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and gave the alpha a pointed look. Derek glared back, clearly not pleased with having been called out on something that might actually be nice – if in a rather roundabout and vicious way – and stubbornly refused to answer. Until Stiles raised an eyebrow and took a breath as if to say something else, that was.

"Yes. Fine," Derek grit out, clearly knowing that allowing Stiles to keep talking wouldn't be in his best interest at the moment.

"Yes what?" Stiles pressed.

"I can still kill you, Stiles."

"You can but you won't," Stiles replied with a shrug but he didn't push it further. He knew that he was lucky to have gotten away with what he had already managed to crowbar out of the alpha. He turned towards the others in the room, giving Erica an encouraging look. "Excuse our silly alpha. He's just not very good with emotions or very gentle but he does want to help. So if we all let this slide this one time we can beat the crap out of him the next time it happens instead. He gets one freebie. Okay?"

"Hey!" Derek's offended exclamation was enough to make the rest of the pack fall silent. Going against Derek always seemed a little suicidal. Unless you were Stiles that is.

"No, I'm not going to apologize. You deserve it." Stiles gave the rest of them imploring looks. "If it ever happens again he deserves a pummeling. Right?"

This time Scott gave a quirky little smile before nodding, something soon repeated by the rest of the pack. Stiles couldn't help grinning towards their alpha while giving him a cheeky little wink.

"That's how it is when you're in a pack."

"This isn't a democracy," Derek pointed out sullenly but he seemed cranky rather than angry, which meant that he agreed with them on some level. Otherwise he would have protested more loudly. And violently.

"Nooo, but it's not a dictatorship either. And I'm pretty certain that they like me best anyway, if you want to start a vote," Stiles teased, just because he could. Derek opened his mouth as if to answer but something kept him from it. Probably Stiles' stupid grin.

Eventually the alpha just narrowed his eyes, gave a dismissive snort and relaxed his tense shoulders. There might even have been a small quirk to Derek's lips – something suspiciously like a smile. Stiles wasn't exactly sure how it had happened but as far as diverting disasters went he was pretty certain that he had pulled off a minor miracle.

"I think that Jackson and I should join the rest of you now," Scott said. Which made some of Derek's suspicion and tenseness return so Scott hurried to clarify, "There's only so much he can learn without actual practice. He can't track in here but I've taught him as much about it as I can."

Scott shrugged and adopted his most effective puppy dog face, which wasn't as persuasive against Derek as other people but the alpha seemed to rein in whatever harsh words he wanted to say and instead just nodded in confirmation. It was a small step but it was in the right direction.

"And seriously, puppies, you better start working on your attacks," Stiles said to the general group of betas. Erica gave him an unimpressed glare and Stiles gestured towards Derek. "He's only one alpha. How hard can it be?"

"Do you want to try?" Isaac shot back while crossing his arms over his chest, looking a bit grumpy.

"Nah, I'm much better at verbally kicking his ass," Stiles replied smugly, and he might actually have deserved the slap at the back of his head he got for that. It didn't stop him from giving Derek a dark look though, even if it was clearly just for show. The alpha raised his eyebrows as if to ask if Stiles wanted anything else and Stiles, wisely enough, chose not to reply to that, verbally or otherwise.

"It's harder than it looks," Isaac pointed out, now edging towards pouting instead.

"Then draw from what you know," Stiles replied with a shrug. He glanced towards their alpha but Derek was just waiting for him to get to whatever point he was vaguely aiming for. "Most of you know lacrosse."

"This isn't lacrosse," Jackson sounded unimpressed.

"No, of course it isn't, but that doesn't mean that a person's weak spots miraculously alters. I mean, in lacrosse you tackle someone to get them off balance, steal the ball and get the upper hand. How is this any different? And what's one of the first things you learn when it comes to tackles?"

"Come in low, to lift them off their feet," Jackson answered without missing a beat, clearly catching on to what Stiles was aiming for. A lot could be said about Jackson but he wasn't stupid.

"Exactly. You always try to take him on from above or up front which, let's face it, is a rather impenetrable angle." Stiles gestured towards Derek's ridiculous biceps and general build, completely ignoring Derek's amused look. "Had he been small and quick, sure, then dive head on and catch him before he flits away, but you need to be sneakier than that. And where one fails another can get a chance. Diversions, puppies, diversions – and teamwork."

Stiles was kind of enjoying this. But he didn't want to give too much away either. Isaac and Erica had thoughtful looks on their faces, as if they were considering Stiles' suggestions, while Scott was practically beaming with pride. Yeah, Stiles definitely enjoyed this.

"And that's enough chatter. We need to continue," Derek commanded before placing a hand against the crook of Stiles' neck. "You go sit down before you hurt yourself."

The alpha gave Stiles a surprisingly gentle shove towards the crates – where Danny still stood – but Stiles couldn't help pushing back against it, just a little, so that Derek's hand would linger against his skin for as long as possible. He took the hint soon enough though and stepped away from the training ring and made his way back to where Danny waited. Lydia joined shortly after that and while the werewolves were preparing to start another round of ass kicking the other two humans were solely focused on Stiles.

"That was very stupid of you," Lydia pointed out while sitting down on Jackson's jacket again.

Stiles shrugged and looked at Danny but his raised eyebrow and slightly reprimanding look said the same. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"They weren't going to hurt me," he insisted, speaking in a rather hushed tone. He wasn't sure if he wanted the werewolves to listen in on this. But he doubted that he would be able to mask it enough for them not to hear if they really put an effort into it.

"Scott probably wouldn't but-"

"No," Stiles interrupted her firmly, not even allowing her to say the words. He could tell, from the set of Derek's shoulder and slight vacant look in his eyes, that the alpha was in fact listening in. And Stiles wasn't going to let her say things that weren't true. "He wouldn't either."

The mere conviction – which might be uncalled for – in his voice kept Lydia from questioning him further, but she did look a little doubting with her lips pursed and eyes slightly narrowed. Still, it was worth it to see Derek register Stiles' words and snap back to attention just in time to dodge a quite skilful lunge from Boyd. Their alpha seemed a little unfocused and dazed though.

Even if Derek might not trust Stiles it was probably time to start showing that Stiles trusted Derek. Perhaps more than the alpha deserved but if Stiles had to take the first step then he would – it wasn't just Scott who should be forced to make those kinds of leaps of faith.

Stiles' thoughts were naturally drawn to the time spent in the pool, when Derek had pointed out that neither of them trusted each other. It hadn't been a lie then but now Stiles had decided to put his faith in Derek and that he would be able to perform as their alpha. And that required trust. So Stiles chose to trust Derek. And that in turn would make sure that Derek knew what responsibility he had now – he had others to care for. He had people who trusted him. He had to make an effort and get better – but he also wasn't alone. Stiles was pretty certain that only good could come from that.

Derek and the betas soon got back into the swing of things and miraculously enough it was going better for them. They still got their asses kicked but there were several close calls, even if Derek had been wise enough to divide them into two groups instead of taking them all on at once. That would just have been stupid.

Stiles didn't miss that he still got glances from Isaac, Erica and sometimes Scott – which he used to gesture quick and barely understandable instructions that would make it easier to take Derek down – and it was at once much more fun to watch. Stiles could actually see the moment the betas started communicating with each other to gain advantages. And while it didn't work most of the time – partly because Jackson was being rather uncooperative – all of them seemed to understand the benefits.

Stiles couldn't help how his chest wanted to burst from unnamed yet not unpleasant emotions when Scott got knocked down and Derek reached out and pulled him off the floor with a scoff that was just an inch from being a chuckle. Their alpha was still rough, yes, but there were no more broken bones – at least not intentionally – and it didn't take long for Stiles to realize that the harsh training session had evolved into something almost _playful_.

They were bonding like real puppies.

Not that there was any cuddling in sight but teasing jabs, wicked grins and more than a few laughs. At first Stiles thought that Derek would dislike it, being the serious and humorless being that he was, but while their alpha kept his face mostly blank he didn't seem displeased in the least. That was when Stiles realized that Derek must truly have missed having a pack. A real one, that he could do things like these with. Wolves were social beings after all so werewolves had to be as well. And Derek hadn't had many people to lean on for quite a while.

All at once Stiles felt his heart both break and swell, if that was even possible.

He continued to watch the werewolves' playful scuffle, not even bothering to hold back his laugh when Derek and Scott started trying to outdo each other like the silly children that they were. The almost brotherly rivalry held such innocence that Stiles wanted to curl up and just enjoy it for as long as possible. Scott practically beamed from happiness.

The fact that both Scott and Jackson seemed to take it upon themselves to direct the other betas – with mainly positive results – only seemed to make their alpha more pleased. It would take longer before a true chain of command had been established but it was obvious that some sort of order was beginning to take form, even through something as simple as play-fighting.

Things never last forever though and Lydia eventually announced that she had to go back home, which of course meant that Jackson would leave too, quickly followed by Danny. It had still been incredibly nice while it lasted and Stiles said goodbye to all three of them – even Jackson – with a wide smile.

Once the spell was broken the remaining werewolves couldn't quite find the motivation to get back to their playful tumble and spent a couple of minutes just hanging out. Derek seemed to fall into the background during this, apparently having realized just how approachable and open he had been for a moment there, and now refused to socialize. That was, on the other hand, perhaps more of a character trait than a situational occurrence.

Eventually the three baby betas left as well and Stiles didn't realize that he and Scott lingered as if it was natural for them to do so until they were completely alone with Derek. Neither of the other three werewolves had seemed to find it odd either and Stiles couldn't quite figure out why.

The only downside was that Scott was still there so Stiles couldn't ask the alpha about all those things that kept nagging on him. There was so much Stiles wanted to discuss but it was obvious that Derek would try to avoid it for as long as possible. So Stiles would have to bite his tongue for now, which was incredibly difficult. Or he could just talk about something else.

"Well, that went rather well, didn't it?" Stiles asked no one in particular while thumping his heel against the crate he was still sitting on.

Derek glanced up for a moment, gave a condescending scoff and then looked back down at whatever he was doing on his phone. Stiles didn't take offense. It was just how Derek worked. If he showed too many positive emotions in one day he would probably spontaneously combust. But Stiles knew that Derek was actually really pleased with how things had developed. He could see it in the lack of furrowed brows and his relaxed posture. For the first time since Stiles had gotten to know the cranky alpha Derek looked comfortable and at ease. It was one for the history books.

"So what's our next move?" Scott asked, having grown quite comfortable in his more practical, serious role. Stiles approved wholeheartedly.

Derek looked up at Scott while slipping his phone into his pocket. The alpha seemed to have been smart enough not to have it on his person during the training but now that they were done it was probably time to leave soon.

"We pick up where the hunters left off first thing in the morning, which means that you need to talk to Allison." Scott perked up remarkably at that and Derek rolled his eyes before continuing, "We need to know where they've searched already. She can tell you. That also means that you won't be going to work tomorrow."

Scott raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest in a rather astounding impression of an unimpressed Derek, as a matter of fact, which was pretty amusing. The irony seemed to be lost on the alpha though, who just pressed his lips together and took a deep breath.

"... fine. It would be _most helpful_ if you could take the day off from work." The fact that Derek sounded as if he was pulling teeth kind of defeated the entire purpose of asking nicely, but at least he had understood what he had done wrong and tried to correct it. Albeit poorly.

Scott seemed pleased by the attempt all the same and Stiles wasn't going to argue.

"I'll talk to Deaton. So we're going to start tracking right away? You told the others?"

Derek nodded and Stiles assumed that was what the alpha had been doing on his phone earlier.

"We will meet here first, eight o'clock tomorrow morning. Talk to Allison before that."

Stiles grimaced, incredibly happy that he wasn't supposed to be involved in the tracking. Sure, he had gotten up pretty early the last couple of days to get a ride to the hospital before Scott went to work but it hadn't been _that_ early. Probably because Deaton cut Scott some slack and let him come in later than usual. It was summer after all.

Stiles knew better than to ask what he was supposed to do. Whatever answer he would get it wouldn't be in his favor. But he was pretty certain that he could find something without their alpha's instructions. If nothing else he could bug Lydia into letting him help with the beastiary. There was always _something_ to be done.

"If that's all then we should probably get back," Stiles announced, rising from the crate while checking his watch. "It's going to take a while to walk back to the hospital."

Their reluctant chauffeur Jackson had already left after all, but Stiles wasn't sure if he really mourned that. The Porsche was everything but a comfortable mean of transportation when you were more than two people.

"I'll drive you."

Stiles blinked and stared at Derek who casually donned his leather jacket, as if he hadn't just offered to give Stiles and Scott a ride.

"Seriously? You'll drive us? Now?" Stiles couldn't quite keep track of his mouth in his disbelief.

Derek gave him an unimpressed glare before striding towards the stairs leading up from the train depot.

"Before I change my mind," Derek shot back without even as much as a glance backwards and after a shared look with Scott both Stiles and Scott tumbled after their alpha with an obvious lack of grace.

Stiles wasn't sure if it was just his imagination or not but it almost looked as if Derek was holding back a smile.

And if Stiles happened to place a hand on Derek's shoulder for support as he climbed out of the Camaro's backseat when the alpha dropped them off at the hospital, well, no one said anything about it. Not even Derek.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this chapter. Just... all of it. I have them pack feels, oh yes!
> 
> My beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) was squealing all over this chapter so she liked it too xD


	7. Arcanum

 

* * *

 

It was odd to suddenly have a father who was not only aware of werewolves but also wanted to know every single thing about them. Especially how his teenage son was involved in it all and what happened as soon as Stiles was out of his sight.

If it wasn't because Stiles knew that his dad was only worried he might have been a tad bit annoyed by the lack of privacy. It was still new and unfamiliar to his dad so it was expected of him to be wary, at least in the beginning. But _God_ Stiles hoped that it would cool down eventually. He might actually go nuts otherwise.

He was so used to taking care of himself by then and surviving various monster-related disasters that it was confusing to have someone tell him that it was dangerous and that he shouldn't be doing it. He understood his dad's worry – of course he did – but it still felt odd. Not misplaced, but odd. Stiles wasn't quite used to it.

He still did his best to calm his dad and explain all the things that happened outside of the hospital. It was obvious that his dad was growing restless and wanted to get out of bed and do something useful, but he never once complained or said so out loud. Stiles couldn't help but wonder if Mrs. McCall had talked to his dad already and that was why he never asked to be discharged. Stiles wasn't going to question it though, afraid that it would break the spell somehow. As long as his dad was at the hospital Stiles felt a little calmer.

His dad was still in pain and couldn't move as efficiently as he usually would. The broken leg wouldn't be a huge problem if his dad decided to leave the hospital – nor would the cuts and bruises – but the ribs kept limiting his movements in a way that made even the most mundane tasks difficult. Stiles always had to fight a cringe whenever he saw his dad jolt from the pain. It was simply better this way.

If nothing else it also gave Stiles time to explain everything his dad had missed – or at least selected parts of it. He still avoided talking about Peter Hale and he never once mentioned that Jackson had in fact been the one responsible for all the murders a couple of months back – even if it was against his will – unsure of how his dad would take it. Stiles wasn't even sure how to take it himself. He always just sort of breezed past it whenever thinking about it, so that he wouldn't have to decide whether he was okay with it or not. It was just easier to pretend that he wasn't aware of the fact that one of his classmates had killed enough people to be considered a rather vicious serial killer.

Little by little his dad was introduced to more and more of the supernatural world and Stiles made sure to keep the information as objective and impersonal as possible. His dad would come to relate to it emotionally eventually – when he learned to see Scott as a werewolf and not just his spastic son's best friend – but it was better to be as clear and simple as possible in his explanations. At least from the beginning.

All this meant that most of the time Stiles spent with his father – whether Scott was present or not – involved lessons in the supernatural. It was quite confusing to be in that kind of situation with your dad – to be the teacher who explained and enlightened – but both of them knew that it was probably the easiest way to handle it. They couldn't exactly ask Chris Argent to come over considering how busy the man had to be with the other hunters.

The evening when Scott and Stiles got back from the meeting with the pack was therefore spent explaining werewolf weaknesses and strengths, while the morning after that focused on pack mentality and werewolf hierarchy. Scott was already out with the rest of the pack trying to track the other werewolves but Stiles didn't mind remaining at the hospital with his dad.

They were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't hear Deputy Johnson's knock until the man was already stepping inside the room. Stiles had a brief moment to panic and wonder whether the deputy had heard pieces of what was being said, but one look at the man's face told Stiles that it was the last thing on the deputy's mind. That expression could only mean one thing.

"We've found another one."

Stiles stomach dropped and he struggled not to curse. He couldn't keep from swallowing though, and looking vaguely nauseous. He hated this – all of it. None of their effort seemed to be making any kind of difference. People were still dying.

Deputy Johnson was breathless, as if he had hurried there as fast as possible even if he could technically have called and have it transferred to Stiles' dad. But Stiles guessed that there were certain things you didn't say over the phone.

"When?" his dad asked, his face immediately warping into that serious, dependable look he often had when working.

The deputy hesitated, throwing a look in Stiles' direction, and Stiles' fingers clenched around the sheets on his father's bed, out of eyeshot for Deputy Johnson but not his dad. Stiles didn't want to be sent out of the room. He knew that he wasn't supposed to hear this – his dad had always been right about that, at least from a legal and moral standpoint – but Stiles was already so tangled up in it all that it made no difference if he found out now or later. It would just be easier if he didn't have to find the information himself.

His dad seemed to come to the same conclusion when he took a slow breath and gestured for the deputy to go on. Stiles needed to know in order to help his pack.

"A jogger found her this morning near a very popular hiking trail," Deputy Johnson replied, clearing his throat while shuffling a little closer. The man was still fairly young, recently transferred to fill the gaps left after Jackson's rampage at the station, but as far as Stiles knew he was reliable and a hard worker. "She's been positively identified as Joanna Cole, 22. Her girlfriend saw her last around eight P.M when she went out for a jog. She never came back."

"The same cause of death as the others?" his dad asked, perhaps a little unnecessarily.

Deputy Johnson nodded but didn't seem to want to describe it in closer detail – probably because of Stiles being there. Stiles wasn't entirely sure if it was because it wasn't wise to share that kind of information or if Deputy Johnson wanted to spare him the gory description. Stiles could imagine it perfectly well on his own though. He suppressed a shiver.

Without changing his expression his dad clasped his hand over Stiles' and continued to address the young deputy.

"Comb the scene for anything that might be of use and start alerting people that we'll have to enforce another curfew – or at least keep people out of the woods. So far all attacks have taken place near or inside the woods." The deputy nodded seriously, matching Stiles' dad's expression pretty well. "Close off as many hiking trails as you can and keep a sharp eye on people going in and out."

Stiles could tell that his dad wanted to say more – he knew exactly what was causing the deaths after all – but there was only so much details he could share with his deputies. He couldn't say that they were looking for humans who could transform partially to wolves and that was why the victims had such animalistic wounds. He couldn't say that he knew that they were hiding in the woods and he couldn't tell them what to look out for or how to battle it.

Stiles flipped his hand, just to be able to give his dad's fingers a supportive squeeze. It couldn't be easy to be the sheriff in that moment.

Deputy Johnson nodded before hurrying from the room with another set of short-clipped orders from Stiles' father, promising to be back as soon as he had called and relayed the instructions to the rest of the force.

Stiles took a deep breath as soon as the young deputy was out of the room.

"You said that your-... friends were out in the woods now?" His dad seemed a little awkward to have to ask but most of it was overshadowed by his serious, determined expression.

His dad still had some trouble with the whole pack thing, which Stiles could understand. It was still laughable to hear him use the word 'friends' as a substitute because Stiles was pretty sure that neither Jackson nor Derek were his friends. Even Danny, Boyd and Lydia were debatable. He nodded all the same.

"Tell them to keep out of the police's way for now. Whatever my deputies find at the scene will be reported to me and if there's any information they need I'll let you know." His dad sighed before pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't do much more than this. But the woods will be cleared of people now, which will hopefully make it easier for your friends to find these bastards."

Stiles was speechless for a moment, not necessarily surprised by his dad's willingness to help but definitely relieved by it. He licked his lips and squeezed his dad's hand.

"I will." He smiled. "Thanks, dad. I'm pretty sure that it will help – all of it. A lot."

Stiles was so used to having to struggle for each little step forward that it felt surreal to have all of this go so easy. He wasn't complaining, oh no, but it was unusual.

He quickly reached for his phone and set to work. He sent off a quick text to Lydia asking for Jackson's phone number before typing out another for Allison. He didn't know if the hunters knew about the recent death but if they didn't he wanted to make sure that they were informed as quickly as possible. He also told her about the impending curfew – which would limit the people on the streets but also make it slightly more difficult for the hunters – and the hiking trails being closed off.

Stiles was in the middle of composing another text for the pack when both replies arrived, Allison's a simple affirmative and a promise to get back to him and report what the hunters replied. Lydia on the other hand asked what was going on, something that Stiles blatantly ignored, if nothing else because he was going to send an explanation really soon anyway. She had attached Jackson's number and that was really all that Stiles cared about in that moment.

He was aware of his dad studying him as he worked but Stiles was so focused on his texts that he didn't even bother to look up. His leg bounced up and down while he typed, keeping it short and concise. Once he was done he added a list of each pack members' phone number, knowing that he was probably the only one who had all of them at this point. That would have to change, even if he, Lydia and Danny were going to remain the main information hubs.

Stiles sent out the mass text with the news of the recent casualty, his dad's instructions and urging them to add each other into their contacts, just in case. He didn't know if all of the pack members had their phones with them or how they were paired off but he hoped that if some couldn't be reached then the others would forward the information. There was only so much Stiles could do from the hospital.

He sucked in a deep breath after he had hit send, finally glancing up at his dad, who had an odd look on his face. It was almost sadness but not quite. It could also be apprehension.

"You promise that you will be careful, right?" his dad asked, voice painfully calm despite the worried look in his eyes. Stiles swallowed and nodded.

"I'm not going out into the woods. I-..." He hesitated and scratched behind his ear. "I just wish there was something I _could_ do. But I'll be careful. I promise."

His dad nodded, satisfied but not at ease, while replies started dropping in to Stiles' phone. He only glanced through Lydia's colorful one, sent a quick reassuring answer to Scott's worried one and gave his blessing when Danny suggested that he'd start looking into that surveillance camera thing as soon as possible. There were no replies from Jackson – not that he had expected one – Boyd or Isaac but Erica reported that all of them were informed one way or another. There was still one text that stood out from the rest of them and it was, strangely enough, the one from Derek.

**From: Sourwolf**  
_Stay at the hospital._

There was no confirmation that Derek had taken part of the information, although he of course must have considering his reply. Stiles wasn't sure how to take that but for some reason his heart was doing all kinds of funny things inside his ribcage, even if he tried to ignore it. He hadn't even known that Derek texted people. Their alpha always seemed to favor calling – probably because he could threaten his victims more efficiently that way.

Derek's text didn't even make sense. Stiles had no reason to leave the hospital. He wasn't going to go to the woods and that only left visiting Deaton if he wanted to do something really useful. That was, on the other hand, not a bad idea. Deaton might have had time to prepare something by then and while the rest of the pack were busy trying to track the werewolves Stiles could go and ask for some help.

His phone pinged and Stiles glanced down at it with a frown, expecting a reply from Scott or perhaps even Danny, but what he had gotten was another text from Derek.

**From: Sourwolf**  
_I mean it, Stiles. Stay at the hospital._

Stiles was pretty certain that werewolves didn't have mindreading powers but that was still incredibly creepy. His expression must have given something away because his dad frowned.

"What is it?"

"Uh-..." Stiles was lost for words for a moment, not really knowing what to answer. "Just the pack replying. Things are fine. They haven't found anything yet."

Or so he assumed. No one had really said anything but that probably also meant that there wasn't anything to say. Stiles quickly typed out a reply for Derek.

**To: Sourwolf**  
_Going 2 Deaton 2 ask for magic help_

Stiles took a deep breath and looked back to his dad.

"I'm gonna go to Deaton's," he said, voice as strong and determined as he could manage. He wasn't afraid considering that it was in the middle of the day and the clinic wasn't exactly placed smack dab in the woods, but he had a feeling that his dad would object anyway.

"Hang on." His dad held up a hand. "You want to go there because the vet is really-"

"Some kind of werewolf Yoda who specializes in helpful mystical magic, yes," Stiles finished. He hadn't really explained Deaton's role in all of this yet, partly because he didn't know it himself, but he had tried to give what little he knew. His dad needed to know about all the allies they had to better handle the situation.

"Yes, of course he is." His dad shook his head a little, as if he didn't want to believe the sentence that had just come out of his son's mouth, but sighed eventually. "You're going to go even if I say no."

Stiles gnawed on his lips and ignored the incoming text he had just received.

"Well, no. If you really don't want me to I won't but it's not like I'll be in danger. There's friendly werewolves in the woods, hunters on the streets and your deputies are going to shut off as many paths from the woods and into town as they can." He rose from his chair and shrugged. "Besides, I need to drop by the house to get more clothes, Adderall and preferably the Jeep. I'm beginning to feel like I'm leeching off of Mrs. McCall when Scott and I use their car all the time."

His dad sunk back against the pillows supporting him and gave Stiles a defeated and slightly weary look.

"Fine. But keep to the main roads and be back here before dark."

"Geez, dad, I'm not _five_ ," Stiles groaned while taking the first couple of steps towards the door. He wasn't going to argue though. He _wanted_ to be back before dark.

"Stiles."

Stiles froze, a little worried by his dad's grave voice. He looked back, surprised to see his dad pointing towards the backpack standing on the vacant chair off in one corner.

"Backpack," was all his dad said but it was enough. Both knew what was inside it.

Stiles took a deep breath, nodded and went to fetch the bag he had almost left without. It didn't feel heavier than usual when he slung it over his shoulder but he knew that what he had in it was everything but normal.

"I'll be back soon," he promised while heading for the door again. His dad looked conflicted but didn't argue.

It wasn't until Stiles was outside the door that he looked at his phone and he couldn't help that a lopsided smile spread on his lips when he read Derek's text.

**From: Sourwolf**  
_You're an idiot. Keep in touch._

Stiles knew that it was only Derek wanting to know where he had his pack members but a small part of him couldn't help being secretly pleased. Partly because Derek had given him permission to – no, ordered him to – keep texting him, but most of all because he didn't argue. Derek didn't tell Stiles to step back and stand on the sidelines like a useless pawn. Whether or not their alpha liked the decision he at least trusted Stiles enough to let him go to Deaton and ask for help. It was worth a try.

Stiles hurried out from the hospital, knowing that he would have to pick up his pace if he wanted to have everything done before dark. He couldn't quite resist his urge to send Derek a reply though.

**To: Sourwolf**  
_Takes 1 to know 1. Will do, almighty sourwolf alpha_

It only took a second or two for him to receive a reply and Stiles burst out laughing when he read it. He hadn't even known that Derek had a sense of humor – let alone could use it in texts – because he knew that it couldn't be anything but that now that they were all pack. It was almost endearing even.

**From: Sourwolf**  
_Three words, Stiles: Throat. Teeth. Death._

Stiles grin lingered long after it should have faded.

 

 

Stiles hadn't quite expected Deaton to have company when he arrived at the animal clinic. And he most certainly didn't expect it to be the guidance counselor of all people. Sure, Ms. Morrell had always given off a rather odd vibe – as if she knew too much somehow – but Stiles had written that down as something to do with the psychology and reading peoples' behavior. Judging on the suspicious looking books and documents spread out on top of the examination table in the back of the clinic she knew a bit more than she let on though.

Stiles stood frozen in the doorway and stared open mouthed at the other two people in the room.

"Hello there, Stiles," Ms. Morrell greeted with a pleasant smile, as if everything was as it should be. Stiles thought otherwise.

"You too? Is there anyone in this town who isn't secretly involved in this?" he exclaimed, none too politely but Ms. Morrell didn't seem to take any offense. She just kept smiling with an amused glint in her eyes. Deaton looked mildly disapproving but Stiles couldn't quite figure out why. It seemed to be directed towards Ms. Morrell though, not Stiles.

"I thought that you would be used to surprises by now," she replied.

"Oh, I'm not surprised as much as I'm resigned. Next you're going to tell me that Coach Finstock is really a unicorn, but only during new moons following a night of rain. Anything is possible in Beacon Hills."

Ms. Morrell grinned while Deaton chuckled softly.

"Well, _that_ might be too much of a stretch, even for Beacon Hills," Deaton replied with that patient, calming voice of his. "How can I help you, Stiles?"

Stiles took a deep breath and moved closer while hiking the strap of his backpack higher on his shoulder. He tried not to stare too blatantly at all the old books with detailed illustrations that were on obvious display before him but it was difficult not to. He was curious by nature and he was pretty certain that these were things he really wanted a closer look at.

"There's been another death and I just came by to ask if there might be some way you can help." Stiles hastened to continue when he saw Deaton's troubled expression, "I know that we've asked already and if you haven't had the time to find anything we understand that but... the rest of the pack are out in the woods right now, searching, and I thought that I could at least try to make myself useful in the meantime."

Deaton smiled at him with something akin to understanding.

"You are useful already, Stiles."

Stiles was left momentarily speechless before he managed to clear his throat and glance down at his shoes.

"Yeah... well, I had hoped to find something more to do."

"This is a very complicated situation, Stiles, and there are limitations-"

"What Alan is trying to say is that since we need to cover so much ground against so many enemies while working with creatures that are of the same nature as said enemies we have a bit of a problem," Ms. Morrell interrupted smoothly, giving Deaton a pleasant but teasing smile when the vet frowned in disapproval. "Isn't that right?" she asked sweetly, clearly being a bit more forward than Deaton.

Deaton sighed and came as close to rolling his eyes as Stiles had ever seen him.

"Yes. Since we need to protect an entire town it's difficult to find any kind of spell or ritual that will help. It's complicated further by the fact that we're fighting other werewolves, since that means that we can't use anything designed specifically to weaken them – it would affect our allies as well."

Stiles nodded to show that he understood while carelessly – probably too carelessly – dumping his backpack on the nearest flat surface he knew would hold its weight.

"Okay, but what _do_ we have? I understand if we can't blanket the entire city but there's still thirteen of us – and that's when I'm only counting werewolves and active hunters." Stiles placed his hands on the steel slab and fingered some of the papers littering its surface, trying to be casual about it while still sneaking a peek. "We don't have to close off the entire town but if we can block some of the roads at least we'll limit their choices and can place guards by the others."

Ms. Morrell tiled her head to the side.

"It could definitely be worth a shot." She looked at Deaton who nodded thoughtfully.

"It will still be difficult and require a lot of time," Deaton pointed out.

"Which is why we will help," Ms. Morrell said, smiling towards Stiles despite the surprised look Deaton gave her. He didn't seem disapproving this time, just taken aback by her initiative. Stiles had no idea what to make of their relationship but he had to admit that he favored Ms. Morrell's openness and no-nonsense attitude over Deaton's cryptic and evasive one.

Deaton took a deep breath and smiled.

"Of course we will help. Do you have any ideas where to start?" Deaton seemed to ask them both.

"Fences?" Stiles tried hesitantly, swallowing at the confused look he got from the other two. "I mean, some parts of the woods have fences. Sometimes they circle an area, sometimes it's just to momentarily hinder since you can always walk to wherever the fence does end and then cross. So what if we could use those already existing barricades but fortify them, so that the werewolves can't climb over? They can still take the long way round but at least we'd get certain areas covered and can have people posted close to where the fences end."

Deaton crossed his arms over his chest, frowning softly in concentration.

"Infusing an already existing structure with a barrier like that would make it easier than to build one from scratch, at least for this particular purpose," Deaton said thoughtfully while Ms. Morrell nodded.

"Are you thinking a quicksilver barrier?" Ms. Morrell asked Deaton. The vet turned towards her.

"It would be most efficient."

"Preparation wouldn't take long either," she agreed, "but the ingredients are rare."

"I think I know where to find them," Deaton replied with a crooked smile.

"Well, I don't know what the heck it is that you're talking about but it sounds awesome," Stiles said pointedly while weighting back and forth on his heels. He felt a little left out, truth be told.

Ms. Morrell gave a soft laugh before smiling.

"It's a simple but efficient barrier. Weaker than mountain ash because it will only protect against one supernatural creature at a time depending on what extra ingredient you infuse it with, but it's commonly used to protect say one structure, like a house. It shouldn't be too much of a stretch to apply it to a fence though since it doesn't require a closed circle, like mountain ash does."

"I'm liking the sound of that. But it's not actual quicksilver in it, right? That shit is dangerous." Stiles grimaced.

"No, most definitely not," Ms. Morrell replied with a shake of her head and another one of those disarming smiles. "It's called a quicksilver barrier because it's easy to make, requires very little preparation to set up and – unfortunately enough – can fade rather fast depending on the quality of the ingredients."

"And the ingredients are hard to find?" Stiles asked, drinking it all in like a sponge.

"They might be for some. I should be able to get a hold of them pretty soon though," Deaton replied with an easy shrug and had it been someone else Stiles would have thought that the man was bragging. Now he just accepted it as one of Deaton's superpowers.

"So how soon can we get this done?" Stiles was getting really enthusiastic by then, delighted to have found something that he might be able to help with.

"The day after tomorrow, if we're lucky. I can trust you to look over the fences you want warded, then?" Deaton asked Stiles, who was quick to nod his assent. Deaton did push in one further demand however. "As long as you promise not to head out there yourself."

Stiles blinked, surprised that Deaton even thought that he would. Sure, Stiles from a couple of months ago probably would have but now Stiles' dad was at the hospital, being out after dark anywhere near the woods was as good as a death sentence and frankly, Stiles wasn't _that_ eager to play the hero.

"No, of course not," he therefore replied, perfectly honest. "I was thinking that I'd look over some maps of the reserve and ask the hunters and the rest of the pack. They might know which areas are more easily defendable."

"Good." Deaton seemed to accept this with a firm, decisive nod before an amused smile curled his lips. "Now, were you in a hurry?" Deaton asked casually while Ms. Morrell leaned forwards with an almost wolfish grin, crossing her arms and leaning them against the examination table.

Stiles raised an eyebrow and looked between the two. Ms. Morrell's smile was almost mischievous and that could either be really good or really bad. This time Stiles actually thought that it was good.

"We have some other things you might be interested in... if you have the time, of course," she said with a shrug while pushing one of the books towards Stiles. Deaton gave her a look that seemed half amused, half resigned.

"Well..." Stiles chuckled and rubbed the back of his head, feeling a slight tingle in his fingers just from looking at all that knowledge on display before him. "When you ask so _nicely_..." he replied innocently, spreading his hands in a conceding gesture.

Ms. Morrell's responding laugh was bright like silver bells.

"I know just where to begin," Deaton declared before choosing one of the books and paging through its content. Stiles was buzzing with energy and kept himself from bouncing on the balls of his feet only through sheer force of will. This was going to be awesome.

If he couldn't be Batman then he could at least be Yoda.

 

 

Stiles was running late – quite literally. He was late and he was running.

He had lost complete track of time back at the animal clinic with Deaton and Ms. Morrell. All three of them having been so engrossed in discussing legends, spells and wards that neither of them had really kept an eye on the clock. Stiles still had no idea how Deaton and Ms. Morrell were connected to everything but he knew for a fact that they were his best shot if he wanted to learn things that would not only benefit his pack but perhaps even save them when necessary. Both of them held so much knowledge and Stiles just wanted to suck it right out of their brains into his own. Except that it would be unethical and disgusting. But cool.

They had shown him the basics on how to manipulate wolfsbane for various uses – he had never really looked into that before since he had assumed that it was all bad – and had also given pointers for what was truth and not. There were so many different legends and stories floating around nowadays that you had to sift through them to find the real ones.

Like werewolves and their obviously non-existent weakness for silver, which was otherwise well known, probably a mistranslation somewhere along the way where the hunter family Argent had became the metal argent. It was all so incredibly fascinating and while they hadn't really found anything more that would help them in their current situation Stiles had been in heaven there for a while.

Ms. Morrell had promised to keep tutoring him if he so wished – which he of course did and told her so in as many languages as he possibly could – and Deaton had agreed that while it might be good to prioritize other things for now he wouldn't mind teaching Stiles more later. Stiles couldn't believe his luck. He was going to become a wizard.

The downside was that he was late. It was already getting darker and while Stiles wasn't the least bit concerned about werewolves as he jogged homewards he didn't like the fact that he would make his dad worry. He had promised to be back _before_ dark and even with the Jeep he wouldn't make it to the hospital in time. He hoped that his dad would forgive him.

As he turned down his street he let out a breath of relief and slowed his pace somewhat. His backpack was heavier now than when he left the hospital, courtesy of Deaton and Ms. Morrell, who thought that he might as well take two of the books with him and read when he had the time. The flaw in that plan being that they were ancient, heavy bricks for books and the straps on Stiles' backpack were beginning to dig into his shoulders. It would be such a relief to be able to unload it in his Jeep and drive back to the hospital.

Stiles patted his pockets in search for his keys and grumbled quietly when he realized that they must be in his backpack, since he hadn't used them for a couple of days. He quickly crossed the driveway and skipped up onto the porch while swinging the backpack off one of his shoulders, trying to dig through the outmost pocket in search for his keys.

That was – naturally – when his phone started ringing. Stiles cursed under his breath and quickly rifled through his junk until he could pull out his keys, quickly followed by him trying to extract his phone from his pocket, all while moving closer towards the door and keeping his backpack hanging precariously on one shoulder.

There was a slight moment of confusion where he tried to put his phone into the lock but once he realized his mistake he switched direction and raised it to his ear instead, accepting the call with one practiced movement with his thumb.

"Stiles." And that actually wasn't him answering. Stiles didn't have time to say anything before the person on the _other_ end said his name. Derek, as a matter of fact.

Stiles frowned and halted momentarily, honestly surprised to hear from Derek of all people. Sure, Stiles had forgotten to keep in touch like promised but he hadn't really thought that Derek would call and check up on him because of it. Stiles had planned to send off a simple text when he got back to the hospital and leave it at that.

"Derek? Are you done in the woods already? Why are you calling me?"

Had that ever happened before? Besides from that time when they were trying to figure out who had sent that text to Allison ages ago and it had been more of a necessity than an actual call anyway? Stiles thought not.

"Where are you?" Derek sounded tense – or tenser than usual at least – which didn't make Stiles ease up on his frown. He was pretty certain that Derek was driving for some reason, judging on the sounds he could hear in the background.

"What?" Stiles unlocked the door and juggled momentarily with his backpack before being able to get a firm grip on the handle. "I'm just on my way back to the hospital after meeting with Deaton and Ms. Morrell – that's our guidance counselor and don't ask me what she was doing there – and it was awesome! We've actually managed-"

"Stiles!" Derek barked, viciously enough to make Stiles lose track of what he was saying. Something in the alpha's tone made Stiles realize the gravity of the situation. "Exactly where are you?"

"I'm at my front door," he replied while stepping inside. "I'm just gonna pick up some clothes and-"

"No! Stiles! Get out of there!"

Stiles got an odd sense of déjà vu.

"What?" he asked weakly, dumbfounded.

"Don't go inside the house!" Derek wasn't one to sound panicked – and he definitely didn't now either – but there was no mistaking the urgency in his tone and words. Their alpha didn't raise his voice as often as one might think but now he was practically shouting. "Stiles, turn around and get out of there! NOW! Do you hear me? Get out!"

Stiles choked on the next breath he tried to take and his entire body froze from momentary panic when a deep, menacing growl echoed through what should have been an empty house.

"Stiles!" Stiles barely ever heard the distant shout coming from his phone.

The door drifted closed behind him with a soft click and two pair of burning golden eyes seemed to melt out from the surrounding shadows of the dark hallway.

His phone and keys clattered to the floor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insane cackling laughter*
> 
> You didn't think that I was done with the cliffhangers, did you? ;)
> 
> Also: first major deviance from canon. There is no such thing as a quicksilver barrier in the actual show but I needed something and it sounded reasonable. I hope you will think so too.
> 
> As always a thank you to my beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) for her amazing work! (If nothing else because she puts up with me and my ramblings)


	8. Survival Instincts

 

* * *

 

The first thing Stiles did as soon as he regained control over his limbs and his brain kicked into flight or fight response was to let his backpack slide off his shoulder until he held the strap in his hand and swing it at the approaching werewolves. He didn't stop to consider that hitting them might anger them or that turning and trying to get out the front door might be his best shot at getting away. He just followed his instincts.

His backpack connected with the first werewolf's chin with an audible thunk – the two heavy books giving it enough weight to make even a supernatural creature stumble backwards from the impact. The momentum of the movement brought Stiles almost out of balance but he used it in his favor to twist on his heel – fairly ungracefully but since it concerned life or death he wasn't exactly aiming for flawless execution – and lunge for the door. He managed to turn the handle and get the door open before frighteningly strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him back inside the house.

He thought he heard something crack but since there was no flash of pain he hoped that it wasn't one of his bones. But perhaps the rush of adrenaline suffocated it.

Stiles cursed both in anger and panic before kicking out uselessly when he was lifted almost clean off the ground, his arms pressed tightly against his sides by the restraining grip. The door was wide open – promising freedom and a possibility of survival – but he couldn't reach it.

He kicked out again, putting up a fair struggle considering his disadvantage when it came to virtually everything. One of his knees connected with the doorframe and before he really reflected on it he bent his leg, braced the sole of his foot against the wooden frame and pushed, bringing the werewolf out of balance and sending them both crashing into the opposite wall. A picture frame or two cracked before falling to the floor, glass shattering and spreading out over the hallway.

The grip around him loosened somewhat upon impact and Stiles struggled out of it, barely keeping himself from toppling to the side. Glass crunched under his shoes while he managed to suck in a sharp breath. He was still clutching his backpack – miraculously enough – but he didn't have time to swing it when the second werewolf charged at him with a feral growl.

The next instinct that kicked in wasn't survival as much as something bred from playing a violent contact sport and learning how to brace for impact.

He crouched lower and went as limp as possible while simultaneously twisting to his left, the collision glancing off his right shoulder rather than knocking him down. He still lost his balance and tumbled to the floor in an ungraceful half spin, but his attacker didn't have much better luck and piled on top of the first werewolf who had just managed to get up again. The downside was that the two werewolves were now blocking his path to freedom, so he had to find another escape route. He couldn't fight his way past them and go for the door, not when being just a human himself. He had to outrun or outsmart them.

Stiles climbed to his feet and aimed for the back door in the kitchen, feeling his heart thunder in his chest. But he was still admirably calm. He didn't have time to panic. He knew that he was afraid – it would be foolish not to be – but he hadn't given up and he wasn't going to stop fighting.

He stumbled the first couple of steps, narrowly avoiding furniture as he went, but it didn't take long before he felt a clawed hand grasp for his shoulder. There was a distant sting – probably not enough to be a serious injury but it did cause a spike in his heart rate – and Stiles turned halfway, partly because of the near grip on his shoulder and partly because he tried to lash out as best he could and fight off his pursuer. By some kind of miracle his elbow connected solidly with the side of the werewolf's face and even if Stiles knew that it was going to give him a huge bruise in a matter of hours the loud crack from the impact was strangely satisfying.

The werewolf fell to the floor but the second attacker was charging at him the next moment, barely giving Stiles enough time to swing his backpack in a wide arch. He didn't have the same element of surprise this time however so while he landed a solid hit to the werewolf's midriff vicious claws had time to close around the backpack. A violent yank made Stiles stumble forwards, almost colliding with the werewolf before he had time to twist to the side and twirl out of the way. He momentarily considered letting the backpack go – Deaton and Ms. Morrell would surely forgive him for abandoning the books in favor of saving his own life – but that was when Stiles remembered what else he had in there.

Stiles' eyes widened before he tugged as hard as he could on the strap he held in his hand, actually surprised to feel the backpack slip from the werewolf's grasp. But that was probably because it wanted to be able to lunge at him again without having something in the way. Stiles didn't wait around to find out.

Instead he bolted for the stairs as fast as he could, heedless of how he knocked over a lamp on his way there. If he could just gain a second or two over his pursuers he might be able to get the gun out from his backpack and fend them off, and he didn't have time to go for the locked back door. It would just slow him down.

He took the stairs two at a time but hadn't gotten far before he felt claws sink into his left ankle. He tripped and fell forwards helplessly, banging his knee against one of the steps. It was only through sheer force of will that he bit back a shout of pain before sucking in a deep, trembling breath.

Stiles flipped onto his back – or as well as he could with one of his ankles still locked in the pursuing werewolf's grip – and stared into those golden eyes and distorted, transformed face for a split second before kicking out with his free foot. The look of triumph certainly disappeared from the man's face when Stiles' heel broke his nose. A howl of pain and fury shook the walls but Stiles just kicked out again, until the claws gripping his ankle let go, allowing him to quickly climb the next couple of steps on his hands and feet.

Warm blood trickled down his ankle but he barely felt the pain over the rush of adrenaline. He still hobbled down the hallway with a distinct limp and his backpack banged against the wall in his haste. His breaths were wheezing in and out of his lungs but he didn't have the time to bother about that. He could already hear the werewolves coming up the stairs.

Stiles stumbled into his own bedroom, not really registering that he had automatically headed for the place where he felt most at ease and in control. He slammed the door shut and dove to his left, where he might remain undetected for a moment or two, just like a certain sourwolf had that one time he broke into Stiles' house.

He crouched on the floor, fingers shaking so badly from adrenaline and fear that he fumbled with the zipper of his backpack more than once. He could hear rushed steps outside the door and sucked in a terrified breath before finally managing to unzip and plunge his hand into the backpack, desperately searching for the gun.

Something heavy crashed against his door but for some godsend reason it didn't break entirely, even if there was an ominous crack and splinters flew from where the hinges were almost ripped from the doorframe. For a brief moment Stiles wanted to laugh at how the werewolves immediately went for violence even when they would have saved precious time by just opening the door like a normal person. Stiles hadn't bothered to lock it after all.

His fingers brushed against cold, hard metal and he nearly whimpered from relief when he could finally grip the gun and pull it out of his backpack. He managed to go through the motions of checking and cocking it even with his violently shaking hands, infinitely grateful for his father's foresight to make sure he knew it backwards if so necessary.

The door into his room broke with a deafening crack and Stiles had to raise one of his arms to shield himself from the splinters and woodchips that came flying. He heard a terrifying roar – one that sounded oddly familiar – but he had little time to ponder on that when he crawled backwards an inch or two just as the first werewolf charged into his room with flashing, golden eyes.

In the next moment, before the man in the doorway even had time to dive towards Stiles, a loud bang echoed in the room and it was only when the gun kicked in his hand that Stiles realized that he had taken aim and pulled the trigger. The werewolf let out a pained, surprised groan when he stumbled back into the ruined doorframe and stared down at the hole in his chest, probably less than an inch from his heart. Something flashed by in the open doorway followed by thumps and growls but Stiles could only stare at the werewolf he had just shot. Sluggish, black blood was oozing from the wound that seemed to grow brilliantly blue for a moment or two, almost deceptively pretty considering how lethal it was.

Stiles watched in horror as the man's eyes rolled back in their sockets before the werewolf crumpled to the floor in a lifeless heap. Something sour burned at the back of Stiles' throat but he swallowed it down just in time to hear a sickening, wet ripping sound out in the hallway, followed by silence.

Stiles' heart was beating so hard it hurt and his breaths were as fast and unstable as they could be without qualifying as a legitimate panic attack. He was still gripping the gun tightly in his hand, aiming it in the general direction of the door, waiting for the other werewolf to show. Quick, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway and Stiles had time to tense and straighten his aim before a dark figure appeared in the doorway.

In some miniscule but still important part of Stiles' brain he registered that the glowing eyes were red, not golden, which made him hesitate just long enough for the shadow to recoil back from the doorway and out of view.

"Stiles! Don't shot!"

Stiles held his breath, not because he wanted to but because a lump of _something_ lodged in his throat.

"It's me! It's Derek."

Stiles made a pathetic, choked sound before managing to draw a deep, dizzying breath.

"O-okay. Yeah. Okay," he mumbled dazedly, not really sure how to react. He did lower the gun somewhat though and forced himself to blink a couple of times. He wasn't sure if he had done that the last minute or so. "The other one?"

There had been two werewolves. Stiles knew that there had been two but he had only shot one.

"It's handled," Derek replied, still out of sight. "Don't shot, Stiles."

"No, I won't," Stiles answered automatically and watched as Derek stepped back into the doorway.

Derek walked over the legs of the collapsed werewolf and the remnants of the broken door, making his way towards Stiles rather slowly, as if he still wasn't certain whether Stiles would shoot him or not. When the alpha came close enough to reach for the gun and pry it out of Stiles' cramped fingers Derek seemed to relax though, if only a little. Stiles had no idea when Derek had gotten there but he was pretty glad to see him.

"Where are you bleeding?" Derek asked, voice low and tight. Stiles couldn't exactly see his face clearly in the dim room but he was ridiculously glad to notice that the alpha's face was human. Stiles wasn't sure how he would react to a transformed one in that moment.

Derek dropped the gun back into Stiles' backpack before grabbing Stiles' arm and jostling him, just enough to catch his attention and rattle him a little.

"Stiles! Focus!" Which was a stupid thing to say to someone who had to take medication to be able to do just that. Derek truly sucked at dealing with people in shock. Stiles told him as much, to which the alpha only rolled his eyes and replied, "If you can be sarcastic then you're fine enough."

"Hey! That's my line. You stole that from me," Stiles accused, feeling a little lightheaded.

"Stiles." Derek's non-existent patience was apparently running thin so Stiles took a deep breath and swallowed around the lump in his throat in order to answer Derek's question.

"Ankle, most probably. Perhaps shoulder..." He raised one of his hands to his right shoulder, feeling frayed fabric and a slight sting but nothing too bad. "Ankle," he confirmed, "but I can walk on it."

"Good, because we should get out of here."

Derek had no sense of decorum. Whatsoever. Stiles threw a glance towards the werewolf blocking parts of the doorway and felt something turn in his stomach.

"Is he-... did I...?" He wasn't even sure what he intended to say but Derek seemed to understand it well enough.

"If he isn't dead already he will be within seconds," the alpha replied without an ounce of remorse or compassion.

Stiles felt his heart clench and something heavy seemed to be pressing on his chest all of a sudden. He had shot someone. Stiles had _killed_ someone. He wasn't even sure how to handle that – how to wrap his head around it.

His next breath was sharp enough to whistle in his throat and he knew that could only mean one thing – he was going to have a panic attack. Which really wasn't the best time but Stiles didn't know how to stop it. He was trembling from the adrenaline high, he could smell the sharp tang of blood and he had just killed someone.

"No, no! Stiles! Stop it!"

Stiles blinked and stared at the alpha, baffled by Derek's tone. It was as close to terrified as Stiles had ever heard it, which is to say not very much at all but something sure put Derek closer to uncomfortable than he usually was.

"You don't have time to panic," Derek practically ordered, as if he thought that would help.

" _What_?" Stiles might have gone an octave higher than usual but whether it was because of his trouble breathing or Derek's idiocy was hard to tell. "That's not how this works! You can't just _tell_ me _not_ to have a panic attack!"

Derek clenched his jaw and glared at Stiles as if to say that he was damn well going to try.

"Stop it," Derek commanded harshly.

And to Stiles infinite surprise the sheer ludicrousness of the situation actually made him stop. Perhaps he was too shocked by Derek's unconventional way of reacting to an impending panic attack or perhaps it was because he got something else to think about but the panic faded. He was still breathing unevenly and wouldn't stop shaking but he didn't start hyperventilating. Huh.

"We need to get out of here, Stiles," Derek said slowly, as if he was talking to a child.

Derek really had no social skills. Which might have been why he reacted to Stiles' panic attack with anger and gruffness instead of understanding. He probably wouldn't have known what to do if Stiles actually _had_ started hyperventilating. Stiles found that pretty adorable for some reason, in a sad, tragic kind of way. Derek wasn't afraid of werewolves, hunters or kanimas but threaten him with someone else's emotional trauma and he freaks.

Stiles took a slow, stabilizing breath, forcing himself to take it easy and keep check of his heart rate. He still wasn't calm but the worst of the panic could be pushed back if he focused.

"Well," he said with a chuckle, "that's probably not going to work every time I almost have a panic attack." He couldn't help sounding surprised. He hadn't thought that would work.

Derek hadn't either, judging on how out of balance the alpha still looked.

"Get up," was all Derek said though, and while the words were a command he didn't wait for Stiles to actually do it and instead pulled Stiles to his feet as he rose himself.

Stiles wobbled dangerously with his wounded ankle and trembling legs but Derek kept a firm grip on his elbow. Unluckily enough the one that was raw from ramming into a werewolf's jaw but Stiles wasn't going to say that. Not this time. Not when he actually needed the support more than he liked to admit.

He still froze when seeing his door in pieces, the doorframe splintered and broken and a dead or dying werewolf lying motionless on his floor. Derek used the grip around Stiles' elbow to force him forwards one step but Stiles pushed back almost immediately, which only really resulted in him stumbling over his own feet. One of his shoes squelched and it took a moment for him to realize that it had to be because of the blood tricking down his ankle.

"No, wait," he managed to squeeze out despite the nausea that made his stomach roll. "I came to get clothes. And medicine."

Stiles knew that it was silly but the thought popped into his head and he just couldn't let it go. He needed to get clothes before he left. Because he was pretty certain that he wouldn't want to return to the house anytime soon.

Derek gave him a look as if Stiles was nuts but eventually just growled and bent down to tug the backpack from the floor and shove it at Stiles' chest.

"Hurry up."

Derek let go of Stiles' elbow – to his great dismay – and headed for the door. Panic shot through Stiles and before he had time to stop himself he called after the alpha.

"Where are you going?"

He didn't sound pathetic, he told himself – he was just traumatized. He didn't want to be alone. Either Derek smelled the panic on him or heard the change in his stuttering heartbeat because the alpha's words were marginally softer than usual. That is not to say that they were kind by any stretch of the word, but they were calmer than Derek's traditional harsh, biting sentences.

"The Adderall is in the bathroom, right?"

Stiles stared at Derek, dumbfounded, until the alpha sighed and took the rest of the steps to leave Stiles' bedroom.

"Pack your clothes. I'll be right back," Derek called over his shoulder.

It wasn't an order per se but Stiles found himself obeying all the same. He limped around the room as well as he could, gathering what he at least assumed was clothes. He was honestly too focused on not glancing towards the werewolf that still lay on the floor just a couple of feet away to really pay attention.

He stuffed his backpack as full as he could around the heavy books and the gun and was fumbling with the zipper when Derek came back and took the bag from him. Stiles gave a startled little sound and was about to complain until Derek zipped it closed for him and shucked the Adderall he must have gotten from the bathroom into the outer pocket.

Stiles was left bereft and confused, soon grabbed firmly by the elbow once again and steered out of his bedroom. There was an awkward moment where Stiles didn't quite manage to step over the motionless werewolf's legs and Derek ended up changing his grip until he practically carried Stiles over the threshold and out in the hallway. Neither of them said anything about it.

Derek still held Stiles' backpack but for once Stiles didn't need to occupy his hands with anything. They were lax and motionless while he focused on keeping his feet moving. Derek was back to guiding him with a grip on his elbow and Stiles refused to glance to where he could hint another motionless body, lying sprawled on the floor in a dark puddle. He did not need to study that any closer.

The stairs was a challenge for Derek's patience because Stiles couldn't take more than a couple of steps without almost tipping forwards and it severely crippled their pace. Derek still let him do it on his own, perhaps sensing that Stiles would not take kindly to being manhandled again. Stiles could walk on his own and was incredibly relieved to notice that while he limped he didn't seem to have broken or even twisted anything. There might be some relatively deep gashes though, after the werewolf's claws.

It was when they reached the bottom of the stairs that Stiles brain kicked into gear again.

"What were they doing here?" He blinked and looked up at Derek, who had a grim look on his face. "And how did you know that they were here?"

The alpha drew a deep breath through his nose and released it in something close to a sigh.

"Not now, Stiles."

"But-"

"NO," Derek barked, fingers gripping tighter around Stiles' elbow, which hurt a lot more than Derek probably intended because he didn't know about the rapidly forming bruise Stiles had there. Stiles barely held back a pained yelp but twitched in a rather telling manner all the same. Derek let go of his elbow and placed a hand between Stiles' shoulder blades instead, urging him forward. "We need to get out of here."

Stiles wasn't pleased but let himself be lead to the front door, where Derek paused momentarily to pick something up from the floor, brushing the glass from the broken picture frames aside all too carelessly for Stiles' taste. The alpha handed the two items to Stiles, who accepted them on reflex more than anything else.

It was his keys and phone. His very battered phone.

"Aw man! It's all cracked!" Stiles wailed helplessly when staring at his phone. It was still relatively functional but parts of the screen were barely visible behind the spider web of lines crisscrossing over it. That sucked so bad.

"I'll buy you a new one if you just get out of the house," Derek growled and practically pushed Stiles out onto the porch.

"Really?" Stiles couldn't help it. He knew that it was just something people said without committing to it and Derek was probably no different, but the fact that he _said it_ was intriguing. Derek almost seemed like a normal person there for a moment.

"Yes, really." Derek sounded really sarcastic and really agitated though so Stiles just shrugged it off and let it be.

The Camaro was in the driveway in the one of the sloppiest interpretations of parking that Stiles had ever seen, with the motor still running and driver's side door wide open. Derek must have rushed straight into the house when arriving, not even bothering to take his keys with him when he went.

While that was incredibly stupid if you didn't want your car to get stolen – which was a fairly likely fate for a car that pretty – Stiles couldn't help feeling flattered. He would even have preened if he had thought that he would get away with it.

Derek closed the door behind them but shook his head when Stiles held out the keys for him to lock it. Stiles wanted to object but the look the alpha gave him made him think better of it.

"Get in the car," Derek snapped, the last shred of patience apparently gone, which was why Stiles chose to be obedient for once.

He could tell that Derek wasn't angry at him but he most certainly didn't need Stiles antagonizing him and making it worse either. So Stiles held back all his questions and limped towards the passenger door instead.

Derek tossed the backpack into the backseat with one swift, overly violent movement before climbing into the car. Stiles tried to hurry the best he could and must have done a pretty good job considering that Derek didn't bark at him further. Stiles still barely had the time to shut the car door before Derek peeled out of the driveway though, but Stiles wasn't going to complain. He was already a bit worried what the neighbors thought and was surprised that no one had called the cops considering the gunshot and Derek's less than subtle parking.

"Where are we going?" Stiles felt that he was entitled to ask.

"The hospital," was the gruff response.

Stiles was okay with that. His ankle was probably not that bad – he was pretty certain that it had stopped bleeding on its own already – but having it looked at by professionals was a good idea. And then there was Stiles' dad. Who was going to kill him. If not for trashing the house and leaving corpses all over the place then for not coming back when he promised and getting attacked by werewolves.

Stiles jumped from surprise when a phone was dumped in his lap – Derek's phone, that the alpha had pulled out without Stiles noticing – and stared at it in confusion.

"Tell Allison that the hunters need to go and clear out the bodies," the alpha ordered without even taking his eyes off the road.

Stiles frowned but took the phone in his palm none the less. His own was in bad enough shape that Derek had a point in giving him another one to use. It still felt odd somehow to be handling the alpha's phone. As if he wasn't sure if he was entitled to it, even if Derek had been the one to offer. Not that it was going to stop him because he was a little curious. Perhaps he would be able to sneak a peek on some more interesting things.

"Call or text?"

"I don't care. Just do it."

"Whatever you say, Sourwolf," Stiles grumbled while typing out the text.

He didn't want to talk to Allison right now. He was still high-strung from the shock, adrenaline and fear and wasn't in the mood for a potentially awkward conversation where he would have to be considerate about someone else's feelings. So a text would have to do.

He tried to keep it short and explain the issue while still ensuring her that he was fine – because he was absolutely positive that she would want to know – and took out his own phone to copy her number. Derek didn't have it in his contacts, which was actually quite a relief. Stiles wouldn't have been sure how to interpret it if Derek actually had had her number.

His cracked screen made it difficult and frustrating and he kept from muttering under his breath only because he didn't want to let Derek know that he was having issues with something as simple as a text. When he eventually managed to send it off he relaxed back into the seat and took a deep breath.

He was okay. He was shaken and bruised but he was okay. He could handle this. Everything was going to be fine. They were going to go to the hospital and Stiles would get patched up. His foot ached dully and Stiles took a deep breath before closing his eyes. The Camaro was nearly soundless as Derek drove them towards the hospital and Stiles wasn't sure if he preferred that over the characteristic hums and squeaks of his Jeep. It suited Derek though, Stiles though, being all sleek and deadly.

Derek's phone vibrated in his hand and Stiles threw a quick glance at it, reading Allison's worried reply but couldn't really gather the strength to answer back. She had promised to send people to take care of the dead werewolves and she knew that he was okay. That would have to do. Stiles just needed a little more time to calm down.

And strangely enough sitting in a car next to Derek seemed to accomplish that rather beautifully. Not that Stiles would ever admit it out loud.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles kicks ass. Simple as that.
> 
> And no, I'm not okay with teenagers killing people. I have a reason for letting it happen and I'm not going to just brush it off, no matter if the show might be a little flimsy on that part.
> 
> Apart from that this was a very fun chapter to write. I enjoy writing action sequences for some reason, even if they're really tricky. My beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) said that she liked them though so I guess I did okay! :D
> 
> Until next time, my lovelies! You're going to like the next couple of chapters, I think ;)


	9. Clandestine

 

* * *

 

Stiles was quiet for a long time, just letting the silence wash over him while Derek drove. It was strangely soothing, sitting there in the car doing nothing. Stiles was still banged up and various parts of him were aching and bruised but he felt calm and relatively in control. There were still some nagging thoughts at the back of his mind though so he lazily turned his head to regard the alpha.

"How did you know that those werewolves were at my house?" he asked curiously. Since Stiles hadn't told anyone but his dad that he planned to go home it must have been a lucky shot that he happened to be there at the same time as they were.

Derek looked angered by the question – of all things – but Stiles had learned not to take that to heart. There were subtle differences to Derek's anger and this was not one directed towards Stiles. He was actually beginning to suspect that it was one directed towards the alpha himself.

"Because you weren't the only one they came for tonight," Derek bit out after a moment of silence.

Stiles stiffened for a brief second before grabbing Derek's shoulder in some odd kind of reflex – as if he thought that Derek would run away from the question if he didn't stop him from it. Probably a very legitimate concern.

"What?! Who else? Are they okay? What happened?" he asked rapidly, not even caring that the alpha gave him an offended look and pointedly glared down at Stiles' hand, as if that would be enough to make Stiles let go. A while back it might have been but Stiles was far too tense to bother about that now. So his fingers remained clutching the smooth, black leather, knowing that it would take a lot more than that for Derek to lose control over the car.

"The other humans. Lydia, Danny and you."

Stiles felt his body go numb but forced himself to swallow despite his suddenly dry throat.

"They're okay, right?" He sounded so weak and pathetic in that moment.

"Last I heard Lydia was fine. Scott and Boyd went to help Danny."

That wasn't good enough but even Stiles knew not to push it too much. Derek had been busy helping Stiles. Of course he hadn't had time to check up on the others while doing that.

"How-... how could this happen? I thought that we were doing a good job of closing the town off!" Stiles exclaimed, still clutching the leather of Derek's jacket, now mostly to keep himself grounded and stable. Derek seemed to find it extremely annoying though if his furrowed brow and the displeased turn of his mouth was anything to go by.

Derek seemed to make the decision that it was _too_ distracting even because he pulled over within seconds, put the car in park and pried Stiles' fingers off with an impatient sigh. Stiles retracted his hand, feeling a little silly about clinging to Derek in the first place, but the alpha said nothing about it. He just turned towards Stiles with a suffering look – as if he was just about to do something very painful. Like give Stiles some actual answers.

"The hunters saw five of them, took up the chase and some of us joined. The alpha was one of those five." Derek clenched his jaw and looked angry in a way that Stiles really was beginning to think was directed inwards, not outwards. As if Derek was blaming himself for some reason. Stiles couldn't understand why Derek would do that but there was something far too anguished about the expression on the alpha's face. It seemed too personal.

Stiles licked his lips.

"But that meant that there were still six werewolves unaccounted for," Stiles guessed quietly, meeting Derek's gaze, "and all six of them sneaked in, split up and searched out the humans in the pack. It was a diversion." He didn't even bother to phrase it like a question.

"It seems that way," Derek replied through gritted teeth, looking so incredibly frustrated in such a heartbreaking way. Derek truly blamed himself. He really thought that he should have done something to stop this and hated himself for not having been able to.

Stiles was so stunned that he didn't even find anything comforting to say. Stiles wasn't very forgiving but he knew for a fact that it wasn't Derek's fault. Stiles was suddenly infinitely relieved that he hadn't blamed Derek for what had happened to Stiles' dad. No need fuelling that self-contempt.

"Boyd caught on before they reached Danny. Jackson, Isaac and Erica fought off those coming for Lydia and we thought that you would be fine because you were supposed to be at Deaton's – where they wouldn't even be able to get inside – or at the hospital. But I decided to check anyway."

Stiles blinked, undoubtedly looking very stupid for a moment or two.

"Oh. That's... thanks." He didn't really know what else to say. Which eventually meant that he chose to change the subject entirely. "How did they even know we were in the pack? Did they just go for the ones smelling most like werewolves?"

Derek pressed his lips together into a thin line.

"Probably. They must have noticed that we're making moves to shut them out so they decided to strike back."

By going after the weakest in the pack, or, alternatively, the ones that the Beacon Hills pack were keenest to protect. It would definitely have been a hard blow either way, had they managed to actually hurt either of them. Which reminded Stiles that he still didn't know what had happened to the others.

"You're sure that Lydia is okay?" Stiles asked while flipping Derek's phone between his hands, desperate for something to occupy them with. He was mildly surprised that Derek hadn't asked for it back yet but Stiles wasn't going to give it to him unless the alpha actually demanded it.

"Yes." Derek rolled his eyes and turned back towards the steering wheel, either to start driving again or just to show that he was done being forthcoming.

"Okay. I'm just going to call Scott and ask about Danny then," Stiles explained while browsing for Scott's number on Derek's phone.

Stiles could tell that Derek was a little surprised that Stiles had just accepted the alpha's assurance about Lydia's welfare without confirming it himself – but that was what trust was about. If Derek said that she was fine then Stiles trusted that she was fine. Okay, he was forced to bite the inside of his cheek not to skip to her number instead of Scott's and really make sure, but he kept true in the end. He had amazing self-control when he wanted.

Scott answered merely moments after the call connected.

"Derek! Where's Stiles? Is he okay?" Scott sounded beyond panicked and Stiles felt a twinge of guilt, even if none of it was his fault.

"Stiles is fine," he assured with a lopsided smile.

"Stiles! Oh thank God! I was so worried!" Scott almost whined, being unintentionally adorable while doing so. But that was Scott in a nutshell. Stiles felt a swell of affection and was, in that moment, infinitely relieved to have someone like Scott. Innocent, kind and just genuinely _good_.

"I'm fine," Stiles repeated and glanced towards Derek when the alpha put the car out of park and pulled back out onto the road. "I'm with Derek. How are the rest of you?"

"All of them are fine. Or, well, fine considering the circumstances..."

"Scott, that sounds very ominous. Don't do that." Stiles had to fight really hard to remain calm.

"Danny got hurt," Scott blurted out and Stiles held his breath while Derek gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Their alpha was no doubt listening in. Stiles closed his eyes, cleared his throat and asked the question he dreaded the reply to.

"How bad?"

"Some bruises and a broken arm." Scott sounded so miserable, no doubt because he hadn't been able to stop it. Scott and Derek really were similar in that aspect.

"Okay. That's-... it could have been worse." It wasn't very comforting but something to cling to none the less. It could have been a lot worse considering that they had barely had the time to see it coming.

"Yeah, he's a little banged up so they're going to keep him at the hospital overnight but he can go home after that. He's handling it really well."

Stiles wasn't surprised to hear that considering that it was Danny they were talking about after all. And even if Danny happened to be upset he was considerate enough not to take it out on Scott.

"Where are you now?" Scott asked.

"We're on our way to-" Stiles cut himself short and blinked twice before letting out a hissing breath. "Scott! What happened to the werewolves?"

"The werewolves?"

"Yes! The ones that attacked Danny. Did they get away?" Stiles asked urgently, ignoring the odd look Derek gave him.

"Yeah, we chased them off but-"

"And those that came for Lydia?" Stiles interrupted harshly. Scott seemed confused by the barrage of questions but answered dutifully.

"Jackson said that they ran off. He called to check up on Danny. I think they're on their way here now-"

"No!" Stiles shouted before slapping Derek's arm, which – to the alpha's credit – didn't cause them to drive off the road but might just have sealed Stiles' death sentence. Derek looked livid. "We're not going to the hospital and neither are they."

"Stiles-" Derek began threateningly but Stiles didn't allow him to finish and talked over whatever Scott was trying to say over the phone.

"No! They're still out there! Even if you chased them off the other werewolves might still be in town. We can't just gather in one place like that – it would only make it easier for them." Stiles took a deep breath, glad to notice that Derek and Scott were both silent and didn't try to interrupt him. "Scott, you and Boyd stay with Danny and my dad at the hospital. Call Jackson and tell the others to stay with Lydia where ever they see fit as long as it isn't the hospital or Lydia's house."

"And what about you? You're staying at your place?" Scott asked.

Stiles swallowed because he sure as hell wasn't going to stay there with the corpses. But Scott knew nothing about that and Stiles didn't want to tell him over the phone, if at all. Scott would freak. Stiles had to bite back a flare of panic. What would Scott say? Stiles had killed someone. He had _killed_ someone. Scott wouldn't like that. What if Scott would look at him differently now? What if Scott would leave him because of it? Scott hated killing. And Stiles had killed. He hadn't wanted to but did that really make a difference? The guy was still dead. Stiles had killed him.

Stiles jumped when a hand suddenly gripped his free wrist. It was only when he looked over at Derek with wide, panicked eyes that he realized that his heartbeat had skyrocketed and that the alpha was throwing him sharp glances from the driver's seat. Stiles swallowed and stared down at Derek's fingers, wrapped snugly around his wrist. He didn't know if it was his imagination or not but Derek's skin felt warm and comforting and he couldn't help enjoying it despite the situation. It had snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts anyway and for that he was extremely grateful.

Stiles cleared his throat, forcing himself back to the present as quickly as possible, before Scott had time to suspect that something was wrong.

"No, I-..." Stiles hesitated. "I'll go to your place or something. Don't worry. I'll figure something out. It's better to change location so _if_ they're trying to find us humans again they'll have to search for us."

"Okay." Scott really was too trusting sometimes, but that had been a rather convincing argument on the other hand. "Will Derek stay with you?"

Stiles wanted to say yes. He really did, but he didn't know if he could make those kinds of assumptions about their alpha. Stiles didn't doubt that Derek wanted to protect them all in his own socially inept way but it was another thing to voluntarily sign up to spend time with Stiles. Derek had already done that once but that didn't mean that there would be a second time.

Derek apparently decided that Stiles had been silent for too long and answered for him.

"Yes." It wasn't creative but left no room for misunderstandings or confusion either.

Derek let go of Stiles slowly – as if driving with one hand wasn't a big deal at all – and Stiles couldn't help shivering a little at the lingering contact.

Scott – bless his soul – seemed oblivious to it all and blew out a breath of relief.

"Good. Okay... keep in touch?"

"Yeah, sure. But my phone is bust right now so call Derek's if anything happens, okay? And take care of Danny and my dad." Stiles swallowed quickly, ignoring how his skin tingled while Derek placed his hand back on the steering wheel. "And tell my dad that I'm fine and that I'll call him real soon. There's no need to worry about me."

"Affirmative. On all accounts," Scott replied and Stiles could even imagine Scott doing a heartfelt salute and that, if anything, brought a smile to his face.

"Right. Later then."

Scott said his own goodbye before both of them hung up. Stiles sank lower in his seat with a tired sigh, staring straight ahead through the windshield of Derek's car. He had no intention of asking Derek to drive them to Scott's house. It was probably just as bad idea as Stiles' own considering that his scent was already all over it after having spent several nights there. But he wasn't sure if he could think of anywhere else they could go either. The train depot was too obvious and the Hale house was out in the woods, which was just suicidal. Stiles suppressed another sigh.

He refused to think about what had happened. The fact that he had shot someone. He couldn't do it. Not now. It was too overpowering – too close – and he couldn't risk freaking out. He was insanely lucky that Scott hadn't caught on. He had probably just thought that Stiles heartbeat spiked because of worry. Somehow Derek seemed to have noticed the difference though. Stiles wet his lips and tried not to think about that either.

"You really should go to the hospital," Derek said after a moment or two of silence.

Stiles couldn't help chuckling.

"Be careful, Sourwolf, or I'll start thinking that you actually care," Stiles shot back with a grin, glad for the distraction. Derek raised one eyebrow but looked decidedly more amused than insulted.

"I just don't want you to bleed all over my car," the alpha retorted.

"Payback, for all the times you've bled all over mine."

Derek made a strange sound and to Stiles' surprise he realized that it was a choked off chuckle, as if the alpha barely managed to hold back a laugh. Derek almost laughed. For real. An honest to God laugh that wasn't brought on by the maiming and killing of some poor person. Stiles was so blindsided by the fact that he didn't even think of calling Derek out on it.

"One can barely tell the difference when it comes to your car anyway." Derek replied smoothly and Stiles immediately flipped from baffled to insulted.

"Hey! That's called _character_!" Stiles replied indignantly. "And I'm not bleeding anywhere near as much as you do on when you're on a roll. You bleed _a lot_. Tell me, were you just born that way or is it a trained skill?"

"This coming from the person I just rescued? You should show some gratitude."

"Oh, I will the moment you stop trying to intentionally tick me off," Stiles shot back, but he was grinning, which diminished the harshness of it quite a bit.

"I'm pretty sure that bad habit came from you," Derek pointed out casually, not taking his eyes off the road. "It's your area of expertise after all."

"Aha! I'm rubbing off on you!" Stiles exclaimed, strangely gleeful.

"Which would explain why it's such an obnoxious character trait," was Derek's response, delivered without a moment's pause.

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest.

"Are you insinuating that I'm obnoxious?"

"Oh, no, not at all. I'm flat out telling you that you are," Derek replied with a – lo and behold – grin. And it wasn't his usual 'I'm going to kick your face in and laugh while I do it'-grin. It was an honest, playful one that Stiles had never seen before. And he loved it the moment he saw it.

"Well look at that..." Stiles mused, smiling quite widely himself. The unfortunate side effect of talking was that Derek's grin faded, but at least the teasing, amused hints lingered. "You actually do have a sense of humor."

Derek snorted before shaking his head.

"I never said I didn't."

"You never said you did."

"You never asked."

And there really wasn't anything Stiles could reply to that. Because Derek was right; Stiles hadn't cared and never asked. He had just decided that Derek was no fun and never really tried to explore if that was true. Sure, Stiles doubted that Derek would ever be an open person but he was definitely not as one dimensional and elusive as he seemed at first, second and third glance. Derek had depth, you just had to chip away on that rock hard surface first in order to even catch a glimpse of it.

And now that he had seen it Stiles had never been more eager to keep digging.

He was momentarily distracted from his own thoughts when he looked out at the passing houses and realized that they weren't anywhere near the hospital or Scott's house. Not that Stiles had had any intention of going there but Derek had heard him say it so the alpha should have headed in that direction.

"Where are we?" Stiles asked while straightening in his seat, as if that would help him detect where Derek had taken them. He looked at the alpha, who gave him a quick glance before frowning.

"You had no intention of going to Scott's."

It wasn't a question.

"Uh... no. I didn't," Stiles replied, surprised by Derek's insight into Stiles' thoughts. "It would defeat the purpose since I've spent enough time there the last couple of days to make it too easy for them."

And unlike the hospital there was no constant traffic of new people to mix up the smells.

"So we're going somewhere else," Derek said simply, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. It wasn't to Stiles.

"Oooookay. Where?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, yes. I would like to know where the big bad werewolf alpha is kidnapping me to. Or at least my dad – who is the town _sheriff_ – would like to know because I need to call him real soon before he strangles Scott for not explaining where I am and why I'm not going back to the hospital," Stiles replied while throwing up his hands in frustration. Derek was far too keen on keeping vital information to himself.

Derek rolled his eyes and took a right turn that led them towards a group of apartment buildings that Stiles had never really given any attention before.

"You can call him when we get inside," Derek replied carelessly before driving to the back of one of the houses and parked out of sight from the main road. Derek was paranoid even in the way he parked.

"Okay, as admirable as your skills of avoiding my questions are it's really beginning to piss me off," Stiles grumbled while Derek reached back and retrieved Stiles' backpack.

The alpha sighed in that impatient, tortured way that he did whenever he seemed to think that he was dealing with a bunch of immature miscreants and gave Stiles a long, level look. That one that seemed to be a foolproof way of making Stiles' heart skip a beat.

"Guess," was all Derek said before he opened the door and climbed out the car.

Stiles just sat there for a split second, blinking like an idiot, before his brain finally caught up. He fumbled with the door handle and tumbled out of the Camaro with even less grace than usual, careful not to drop Derek's phone by mistake.

He momentarily forgot the state of his left ankle and had to brace himself against the car roof to keep himself from falling over completely. After a pained, hissing breath he closed the door and limped after Derek, who was walking unusually slow with Stiles' backpack thrown haphazardly over one shoulder. The Camaro gave a high-pitched blip as Derek locked it.

"Dude! Is this where you live?" Stiles wasn't able to hide the curiosity and elation he felt. He might actually get to see where Derek lived. It probably wouldn't be very glamorous but it was one of those things that the alpha had always managed to hide from them. And Stiles loved to unravel mysteries.

"Not a _word_ to the others," Derek growled warningly but it rolled off of Stiles like most of Derek's threats did.

"That's a yes," Stiles decided and didn't even notice that he gripped Derek's arm for support when he almost stumbled. And didn't let go even when he was stable again. "This _is_ where you live."

Stiles wanted to ask why Derek would willingly take Stiles with him to his place but he was afraid that the alpha would change his mind if he actually questioned it. And he also suspected that if he just pretended that it wasn't a big deal then Derek would be less uncomfortable. If there was one thing Stiles had learned when it came to Derek it was that questioning him or pointing out things in his behavior almost always resulted in silence. Absolute silence. Derek was the very definition of defensive so even if Stiles didn't mean anything bad by it Derek would most likely take it as such. So it was better to just not say anything.

Sometimes even Stiles could admit himself defeated because if there was one person as stubborn as him it had to be Derek.

The alpha didn't dignify Stiles with a response but Stiles could live with that considering that he was being led into the building they had parked behind. He was still going to get what he wanted – he just needed to be a little patient. Stiles' hand fell away from Derek's arm when they stepped into the stairwell and his curiosity won out over his need to cling for support.

The place didn't seem new exactly but definitely not run-down either – nothing like the train depot – and there was even an elevator, which Stiles was infinitely grateful for. If they were heading up his foot would appreciate the lack of stairs.

Stiles followed Derek into the elevator without a word and watched as the alpha pushed the button for the top floor. Stiles had to fight real hard not to bounce up and down from excitement. First of all because it would hurt like a bitch and second because Derek would kill him for it.

Derek looked oddly normal standing in the dim, fluorescent light of the elevator with Stiles' battered backpack on his shoulder. Still rougher than your average Joe, yes, but he could almost have passed for a slightly gruff-looking college student without too much of a stretch.

It was almost frightening to be reminded that while Derek wasn't human in some concepts of the word he most certainly was in others. He might be a werewolf but he was still a person. A living, breathing person who had ups and downs, good and bad sides and a lot to offer. Sometimes Stiles forgot that. Sometimes Stiles found that he judged Derek by different standards than he applied to others and he was beginning to feel that wasn't quite fair. Derek wasn't less entitled to forgiveness, understanding and patience. Derek wasn't bad.

The alpha gave Stiles a questioning look, one of his eyebrows raised impatiently. Stiles hadn't even realized that he was staring and he had to struggle to swallow down all the impulses that told him to say something – _anything_ – that would make it all better for Derek. Feelings he couldn't even begin to interpret were bubbling inside him and he forced himself to push them down, out of view. He made sure to pull on one of those carefree smiles instead and shrug casually, as if he hadn't meant anything by it. Derek didn't look convinced but didn't press either.

The elevator pinged and Stiles followed Derek to the designated door like an obedient little puppy. A door without a name or any kind of identifying marks. Figures. Despite his flashy car and fancy leather jackets Derek was always very private and Stiles assumed that he wanted to keep a low profile when it came to housing.

Stiles waited patiently – or as patiently as someone with his overabundance of energy could – for Derek to open the door and followed the alpha into the apartment. Or perhaps loft would be a better way to describe it. The first thing that struck Stiles was that it felt like Derek. He wasn't sure how to explain it because he couldn't actually _see_ anything yet with Derek in the way but it _felt_ like Derek. Stiles had to wonder if it had anything to do with the werewolf alpha thing. Perhaps alphas had dens or something? A place where they settled and owned until they permeated the very air.

Or perhaps it was just a place where Derek lived and smelled like him.

It was a rather nice loft though, Stiles noted when he limped after Derek with his squelching left shoe, if a bit sparsely furnished. It looked almost as if the alpha had started trying to make it a little more inhabitable and then stopped halfway through, as if he had grown tired of it or just couldn't be bothered. But at least the necessities were there, even if the walls were practically bare.

There was a living room of sorts, in connection to what Stiles could tell was the kitchen, and a door further off, probably a bedroom, and one that Stiles assumed had to be the bathroom. He tried not to seem as curious as he felt but it was difficult. Derek's couch looked rather comfortable from where Stiles was standing and there was even a sleek looking TV in front of it. Stiles had never really thought about it but Derek seemed to have quite a lot of money. Probably enough to afford a nicer place than this and definitely buy more furniture, even if the ones he did have were pretty nice. But this was Derek they were talking about and the loft fit him somehow, even if Stiles couldn't quite put his finger on why it did. Stiles kind of liked it. A lot.

Derek dropped Stiles' backpack on the floor – a little carelessly one might think – and Stiles pursed his lips in dislike.

"I like what you've done with the place," Stiles heard himself say before he could stop himself, sarcasm lacing his words. The alpha gave him an unimpressed look and Stiles just shrugged. "No, really, it's very you."

"What? Empty, barren and dead inside?" Derek asked snidely and for once Stiles wasn't in on the joke. It sounded too harsh and self-depreciating.

"No, that's-..." Stiles faltered, staring helplessly as Derek turned and headed for what Stiles assumed was his bedroom. "That's not what I-... uh..."

Stiles felt awkward and out of place, not really knowing what to say because Derek didn't seem interested in listening. So he went for something completely different instead, trying to ignore that the words had even been exchanged in the first place.

"Bathroom? I need to wash off the blood and have a look at my foot."

"Over there," Derek called back over his shoulder, not bothering to sound hospitable or even vaguely nice. Stiles couldn't really blame him.

So instead of complaining about it he headed for the door Derek had indicated and soon limped into a decently sized bathroom. Stiles didn't know if he was supposed to be surprised that everything was relatively clean. He had somehow expected that it wouldn't be, considering the state of the train depot. But that was perhaps a little unfair because no one wanted to live in that filth and Derek wasn't a sloppy teenager. Sure, there was nothing overly tidy about the loft – Stiles had seen things scattered about here and there and some pieces of clothing thrown over the back of the couch – but it wasn't untidy either. It just looked normal. Like any other place would when someone lived in it.

Stiles was beginning to feel really freaked out by all those little signs that hinted at Derek being just like everyone else. The alpha had always seemed so aloof and untouchable which had been both annoying and a comfort. Stiles had always assumed that Derek was on another plane of existence than him and he had been fine with that. It had meant that there was no use lingering on those odd little thoughts and impulses that Stiles was beginning to have on a more frequent basis – because Derek had been out of reach. It was easy to deny them when he knew that they wouldn't lead to anything.

But now? When Derek was slowly but surely turning out to be not only reliable but an actual relatable person too? It was scary. It had been easier when Derek was just the stereotypical bad boy werewolf that no one really knew beyond his anger management issues and leather jackets. But it wasn't like that anymore. Derek wasn't a stereotype and he wasn't dead inside. He was probably everything _but_ empty.

Stiles took a deep breath and pushed those thoughts away. They would do him no good now. He chose to sit down on the closed toilet lid instead and toe off his left shoe. The sight of his bloodied ankle was enough to make him want to gag. He was pretty certain that it looked worse than it was though. He placed Derek's phone on the sink, hopefully away from any water damage, and scratched his head.

"Uh... Derek?" he shouted, not really remembering that Derek would probably have heard him even without him raising his voice. "Do you have a first aid kit?"

There was a short moment of silence.

"No," Derek replied, suddenly standing in the open doorway and startling Stiles enough to make him jump.

"Geez! Don't _do_ that!" Stiles hissed before frowning. "And what do you mean 'no'? How can you not have a first aid kid? Isn't that something everyone has?"

Derek gave him a look as if to say that Stiles was being really rather dumb.

"Stiles, I'm a werewolf."

Stiles mouth fell open, ready to give a scathing retort, until he realized that he didn't have one.

"Oh. Right... super healing." Stiles frowned deeper. "Then what am I going to do about this?" he asked and gestured towards his bloodied, mangled foot.

Derek rolled his eyes before stepping into the bathroom which had been decently sized when Stiles was alone in it but that didn't quite apply with the alpha introduced to the equation. Stiles pulled back as much as he could so that he wouldn't be in the way and gave a surprised little yelp when Derek tossed a clean towel at his head. Stiles fumbled but managed to catch it before it fell to the floor.

"I told you to go to the hospital," Derek pointed out sullenly. "Clean it first."

"No! _Really_?" Stiles shot back sarcastically with an eye roll of his own. "Also, black towels? Seriously?"

He held up the black terrycloth but Derek didn't seem to understand how ridiculous it was.

"It keeps all the blood stains from showing," Derek replied casually and Stiles hesitated one moment too long to be able to give a suitable retort to that. He wasn't sure if it was true because he hadn't exactly tried himself, but decided not to question it.

Derek walked out again and left Stiles alone in the bathroom without another word. He was one awful host. Stiles suppressed a sigh, got to his feet and hobbled around until he stood in front of the sink. He briefly looked up in the mirror than hung above it but the moment he saw his reflect he rather wished he hadn't. He looked like a mess. He wasn't dirty or anything but he was pale and his eyes were still a little too wide and glassy. Perhaps it was just as well that his dad didn't see him like this.

Stiles did a quick check on his right shoulder but aside from the ripped clothes it was barely enough to be called a scratch. There were four thin lines that stung when he poked them so he decided not to. They wouldn't be a problem. Not compared to his foot.

He wet half of the towel before limping back to sit down again, carefully wiping away the blood on his ankle and foot as best as he could. He had to stop and wince at the pain more than once but eventually all the blood was gone and he was free to observe the damage the werewolf's claws had caused. It turned out that Stiles had been right; all the smeared blood made it look a lot worse than it actually was and the wounds themselves weren't that bad. They would probably scar but were too small to require more than just some bandages and time. He'd probably be able to walk normally within days but running was out of the question for a while.

"Here."

Stiles didn't jump this time and looked up at the t-shirt Derek was holding out towards him.

"Uh... I have my own clothes, thank you," Stiles replied suspiciously, not sure what the alpha expected him to do with it. Derek sighed in that oh so familiar manner he did whenever people around him were stupid or a general disappointment before gripping the t-shirt and tearing off a piece.

"Whoa! What? What are you doing?" Stiles exclaimed, not prepared for the garment ripping.

Derek didn't answer with words and instead just tossed the strip of fabric into Stiles' lap before tearing off another. Stiles' mouth fell open in shock. Derek was tearing his own clothes to give Stiles makeshift bandages. That was both ridiculously macho-stupid and incredibly flattering, all at once.

Stiles' heart made a little somersault, which didn't pass unnoticed. Derek stopped briefly and gave Stiles a cautious look, as if he expected Stiles to have another panic attack. But that was definitely not what Stiles was afraid of in that moment. So he cleared his throat to cover up the fact that his stomach was full of butterflies and his heart was thumping loudly in his chest. His throat was dry too.

"You know, you're a lot nicer than you try to make people believe," he pointed out while carefully wrapping the first strip over the puncture wounds on his ankle. It probably wasn't the most sanitary solution but he doubted that Derek had given him a t-shirt that wasn't clean. And it was apparently the best they could manage at the moment.

"Hardly," Derek replied with a displeased huff. He seemed satisfied with his mangling of the t-shirt because there was no more ripping. Stiles focused on wrapping.

"No, you totally are. You're a lot softer underneath that shell of yours than you want us to believe and you're really quite nice when you lower your guard a little. It's actually possible to get to know you like this – learn more about you. It's nice."

The short silence should have been Stiles' first warning that he was treading over dangerous ground.

"No." Derek's voice sounded odd and Stiles threw a quick glance at the alpha, who still lingered in the doorway. Derek's face was an expressionless mask and for once Stiles couldn't read him. At all. But Derek's tight grip around the remains of the t-shirt said that something was wrong. Stiles just didn't know what.

"Oh come on," he pushed with a slight frown, "why else would you tell my dad about werewolves?"

Derek raised an eyebrow but he looked guarded and defensive, so unlike his expression just moments ago.

"What about it? He's the sheriff and he needed to know."

"Really? You think I'll fall for that?" Stiles asked, feeling rather defensive himself. There had to be more to it. Derek didn't just tell people about werewolves on a whim like that. Not shortly after Stiles had explained how much he feared doing it himself. And Stiles really wanted to know why Derek had done it. There had to be a better reason.

"It isn't even important," Derek replied harshly.

Stiles narrowed his eyes and paused in his wrapping.

"It is to me."

"So?" Derek shrugged, as if he couldn't care less about what was important to Stiles. A sharp sting of hurt flashed inside of Stiles but he pushed it aside.

"I want to know why you did it," Stiles insisted.

He really shouldn't have.

"What? You think I did it for your sake?" Derek asked and there was something in his tone – a sharp, biting condescension – that made Stiles falter. He didn't realize that he was holding his breath until he forced himself to snort. His chest did not ache. Nope. That sharp pain had to do with something else.

"No, of course not," he snapped, lying through his teeth, but it wasn't like Derek would be able to tell the difference. Stiles heart had already been doing the uneven tango the entire evening. It was actually really calm now. Almost alarmingly so, as if something was actually quite wrong. "Why would you bother with one of the token humans?"

Stiles wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic, self-hating or just generally angry. Perhaps all of it.

"Yes, why would I?" Derek shot back before turning and throwing some careless parting words over his shoulder. "Just shut up, get that fixed and call your dad. You sleep on the couch."

Stiles tried to deny that it felt like a punch to the gut. He had always known that Derek didn't care much for him but he had thought that it was something of the past. Derek had seemed so much nicer than usual the past couple of days and Stiles had almost been certain that the alpha was beginning to like him. Perhaps even a little more than he liked some of the others.

But that might just have been wishful thinking on Stiles' part, it seemed. He didn't even know why he felt so surprised. Of course it hadn't been _Stiles_ that made the difference. It was probably the pack. Come of think of it, everything Derek had done for Stiles had been after they became a pack. The jacket, explaining things to his dad, taking him to his loft. Of course that was what it was about. The pack. Stiles felt like an idiot.

He drew a deep, trembling breath and willed his hands to stop shaking. Talk about making a fool out of himself. How much had Stiles misinterpreted? Had it all just been him reading things into Derek's behavior that weren't even there? It wouldn't be the first time he did that. The fiasco with Lydia was a testament to that. Derek was probably just looking out for the pack and Stiles had gone and assumed that it was personal. Great.

Something cold and dreadful settled in his chest. He wasn't an idiot. He knew what all those soft little flutters and jolts he felt whenever Derek came near, said something vaguely nice or happened to touch him meant. Stiles could deny it all he wanted but in reality he knew. All too well. He knew that he was beginning to feel things for Derek that he probably shouldn't. Or definitely shouldn't judging on how he had misinterpreted everything. He had almost started hoping. He had been so sure that he had glimpsed _something_.

But it could all just be in his head. Like with Lydia. It was apparently his thing.

Stiles closed his eyes and leaned his elbows against his knees, hiding his face in his hands. He was such an idiot. It was just a pack thing, nothing more. Derek still didn't like him. Derek just tolerated him because he was pack. Derek protected him because he was pack. It wasn't because of _Stiles_. It wasn't for _him_.

Breathing kind of hurt but Stiles forced himself to do it anyway. This wasn't anything he hadn't experienced before. He was used to rejection. He was used to feeling like this. He could pick himself up again. He always did. The only consolation was that he hadn't had time to say anything truly embarrassing. But now he knew and could leave it all behind. He didn't have to face it because there was nothing there to face.

Good riddance.

It should have been a relief but he just felt cold and hollow. But no matter. Nothing new. He would just keep going. He always did. No one would notice. They never did. It would be fine. Everything would be fine.

He repeated those words like a mantra until his hands had stopped shaking and he could continue to wrap his foot. And if he felt completely empty and just so incredibly tired, well, he'd handle that too.

He always did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter yet. And yes, I gave Derek a loft because he's apparently supposed to have one in season 3 but I have no idea what it looks like soooo yeah.
> 
> And be a little nice on him. Derek might have flipped and snarled at Stiles there at the end but please, try to remember what usually happens when he lets people get close. He can't find it very comforting to be reminded of the fact that he might be letting his guard down around Stiles...  
> ... because, well, KATE.  
> He's just afraid.
> 
> I nearly drove my beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) off the ledge with this chapter. She was so emotionally drained after she had finished it that she claimed that she hated me. Although I know that she loved it.  
> I hope you will too ;)
> 
> ALSO! Two chapters next week! The next chapter is another full-length, plot-important interlude from another characters point of view and like in the first part I'll post it on Tuesday then the next regular chapter on Friday. So look forward to that! ;)


	10. Interlude

 

* * *

 

John liked to think of himself as a rather reasonable man. He tried not to judge prematurely and if he was proven wrong he did his best to admit it and apologize. He accepted the existence of werewolves – never mind that the evidence had been too convincing not to – and he had reluctantly given his son permission to keep being involved with them.

That didn't mean that he had to like it and it didn't mean that he had to play nice when someone was purposefully refusing to tell him things. Like Scott did, when he came by John's hospital room looking miserable and anxious.

That in itself had been enough to make John worry and when Scott explained that the humans involved with the werewolves had been attacked it was only the cast on his leg that kept John from leaping out of bed and head out to find Stiles. So when Scott proceeded to tell him that while Stiles was fine his son had no intention of coming back to the hospital that night but would call him soon, well, John felt reasonably angry.

But since John also liked to think of himself as fairly mature and morally sound he kept himself from threatening his son's best friend with jail time if he didn't tell him exactly where Stiles was. Scott told him as much as he could and John saw no lie in Scott's eyes.

The boys clearly had a different set of standards than John did however because it was obvious that Scott thought that John should have been calmed by the news that Stiles was with Derek Hale. John wasn't calmed one bit. He had nothing personal against the Hale kid – he actually felt a great deal of sympathy for him – but it was another thing entirely to entrust him with Stiles' well-being. John knew that Derek was 'the alpha' but unlike Stiles and the others he had a hard time seeing that as something good. It sounded more like a cult than anything and John felt that his worry was justified.

He was fairly certain that Derek wouldn't harm Stiles intentionally but it was obvious that the kid still had the deaths of his family hanging over him. John couldn't blame him – the sheer magnitude of the loss was staggering – but it also made Derek cold, harsh and defensive.

When Derek had been arrested for his own sister's murder John had actually been fairly certain that they had caught the right guy. Not only because half of her body was found on the old Hale property but because Derek had the psychological trauma and seemingly infinite anger that could easily boil over to murder with the right motivation. But John couldn't say that he hadn't been relived when he found out that Derek _hadn't_ killed his own sister.

And then Derek kept getting accused for more murders – by Scott and Stiles themselves no less – and John wasn't sure if he had really let all of that go yet.

He knew now that Derek wasn't guilty and he also knew that Derek was involved in the very same way that Stiles was – meaning that he was in the middle of the conflict but not directly responsible for what happened. Still, the mere fact that he was such a believable candidate to pin a murder on wasn't exactly calming to a worried father. Derek Hale might not be a murderer but he wasn't a good guy either.

He was in fact a very angry, violent and elusive guy who was very difficult to deal with and John wasn't sure if that was going to change anytime soon. And the result of that was that he wasn't entirely comfortable leaving Stiles with him. Not when he also knew that Stiles was having some rather conflicting feelings for Derek – which reminded John that he really shouldn't be thinking of Derek as a kid because he most certainly wasn't in the eyes of the law. But Stiles was.

John wasn't prepared to bring out his gun just yet – mostly because he had recently found out that it would be virtually useless unless he got specific bullets – but he was going to keep it close by. So far it seemed to be Stiles who had an odd but not entirely surprising fascination for Derek, not the other way around, but things like that could shift. John didn't know if he could trust Derek not to take advantage and while he wasn't entirely sure what Stiles' interest entailed yet – teenagers these days were a bit difficult to read when it came to that – Stiles was vulnerable.

Stiles was smart and knew right from wrong but he was also searching for affection wherever he could find it. John wasn't sure if it was because of his mother's death or due to John working too much but it made him feel incredibly guilty either way. He should be able to keep his son happy. Stiles shouldn't have to feel unloved.

John's biggest concern was that Derek Hale might not be the right person to offer that kind of attention. Not even if it was just of the platonic kind but even less if it was romantic, which was something John tried very hard not to think about. It was one thing to imagine your son with a lovely girl or even a lovely boy – John wasn't going to be picky about that even if he might require some time to get used to the thought even if he had seen rather glaring hints – but Derek wasn't a lovely boy. He was first of all a grown up, second a very angry and violent grown up and finally, as if the first two weren't enough, he was werewolf. There was nothing in that equation that made John feel at ease.

He didn't want to be judgmental, he really didn't, but what he had seen of Derek Hale so far wasn't comforting. It didn't make him eager to accept that his son seemed to react whenever Derek's name was mentioned. It happened even just in normal conversations – something Stiles was clearly unaware of himself – or the blatant implications of that half but not quite conversation they had had a couple of days ago. Stiles was having some kind of feelings for Derek, John just didn't know what they were yet. He hoped that it was just fascination for a person older and stronger than him but he couldn't be sure.

Stiles had always been a little tricky with whom he liked and why. Like the Martin girl. While she was certainly beautiful she was also rather spoiled and mean, which was even less of a comfort if that turned out to be Stiles' type. If that was the case his interest in Derek might very well be of the kind that required a gun sometime in the near future.

John's only consolation so far was that Derek hadn't shown that he was receptive to those hints Stiles had been sending out – probably unknowingly – but, then again, John had never seen them in the same room together. There was no telling what was going on when he wasn't there.

Which was worrying enough to make him want to break his promise to Melissa and rush out of the hospital that very same instant. He knew that she had had a point when she came to him and explained Stiles' worries. John knew that Stiles was right and that it was actually rather wise for him to remain at the hospital – but it didn't make it easier. It didn't make him feel any less useless.

He had promised Melissa to stay at least until he could move without causing himself pain – or until he would be able to raise and fire a gun without seriously hurting himself – but he was getting antsy. He didn't like sending out his deputies, who had no idea what was going on, or put his faith in these nameless, faceless hunters he didn't trust. But he couldn't exactly pick and choose.

He was going to give Chris Argent a call very soon though and have the man explain himself.

It was worrying not knowing what was going on in his own county. John didn't blame himself for having missed the existence of werewolves – no sane person would have suspected that to be the cause for everything that had happened recently – but he was frustrated to have been kept out of the loop for so long. And he wasn't going to sit by quietly now that he did know. It was still his county and it was his job to keep the people safe.

John was brought back to the present when the phone next to his bedside started ringing. Since John wasn't permitted to keep a cell phone all calls from his deputies were directed to that phone, but John had a feeling that it wouldn't be a work related one this time. Scott had promised that Stiles would call and then left to check up on Danny Mahealani, who had apparently gotten hurt during the werewolf attack. The werewolf attack Stiles had also been involved in. John took a deep breath before lifting the receiver to his ear.

"Sheriff Stilinski."

The silence on the other end was the only confirmation John needed to know that it was Stiles calling. He held back the barrage of questions he wanted to ask and patiently waited until Stiles spoke.

"Hi, Dad..."

John's heart clenched. He had expected Stiles to sound guilty – Stiles always did when he had disappointed John in some way – but more so than that he seemed sad and confused. The guilt was definitely there but so was a hopelessness John hadn't heard since his wife passed away. His anger and urge to reprimand Stiles for not coming by the hospital vanished without a trace.

"Stiles, are you alright?" John tried not to sound demanding, knowing that Stiles was an excellent liar when it came to his emotional state. Stiles was used to telling people that he was fine when he wasn't. John knew all about that habit and hated himself for having let it go far enough that he – Stiles' own father – could never quite tell if Stiles was lying or not. It was always to keep John from worrying and that just made it all worse.

"I-..." Stiles hesitated, voice cracking and John had to grit his teeth not to urge him on somehow. To hear your child in pain was one of the worst things John had ever been forced to live through. "I'm okay."

It wasn't an evasive answer, rather one to assure John that Stiles wasn't dying. It was obvious that he wasn't _fine_ – there was definitely something wrong – but he wasn't in any immediate danger. And sure enough, Stiles soon clarified.

"I hurt my ankle. But it's not too bad."

John could imagine how Stiles would be fidgeting as he spoke, rubbing a hand over his head and fiddling with the hem of his clothes while one of his legs bounced restlessly up and down. He could tell that Stiles was nervous and that he was holding back on something huge. Something John wasn't sure if he wanted to know but began bracing himself for none the less.

"Where are you?" John asked, keeping his voice as neutral and calm as possible. He didn't want to spook Stiles into silence. John was fairly certain that Stiles had been a lot more open with him ever since he found out about werewolves but that didn't mean that there still weren't things Stiles wanted to keep secret.

"I'm-... uh..." Stiles cleared his throat and when he continued his voice was weak and frail. "Derek took me to his place."

John felt a wave of protectiveness surge through him. All his worries came back tenfold and he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep calm.

"Is everything alright?" He couldn't help the sharp edge that wormed its way into his voice. Stiles didn't sound okay with being where he currently was. It was natural to be worried.

"What?" Stiles seemed surprised but found himself soon enough. "Yes, everything is fine. It's-"

"Stiles," John admonished, "don't lie to me."

There was a silence on the other end, broken only by a rhythmic clicking, probably Stiles nervously tapping something against another hard surface. Stiles seemed to take a deep breath.

"It really is, Dad." he sounded heartbroken though. "There's nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. Okay?"

That might have been cryptic and useless to some but John understood all too well. He knew rejection when he heard it. Stiles managed to put emphasis on the words that made it clear just why his son was sounding so sad – there was nothing to worry about because there was nothing there.

While John had been prepared to shoot Derek Hale just minutes ago on accounts of him maybe having an interest in his underage teenage son John now felt an incredible urge to do it for an entirely different reason. It was instinctual and brutal but John didn't want anyone to hurt his son – in any way – and whatever Derek had done, whatever kind of rejection he was guilty of, made John furious. It wasn't reasonable or mature but things concerning your children were always an exception to the rule. He wanted to hurt Derek for hurting his son. He knew better than to let that show however.

"Okay, Stiles," John replied, voice soothing. "It's okay."

Although it really wasn't. It was obvious that it wasn't. But he wanted to let Stiles know that he understood. Stiles didn't have to explain it in detail. John wouldn't force him to say it out loud.

"Dad, I shot someone."

The confession came so suddenly that John froze, staring straight ahead with the receiver clutched in his hand. Those were words he had prayed that he would never have to hear from his son. And he didn't know how to handle it now that he did.

Until he could hear a choked sob on the other end.

"I-I'm sorry, Dad. I killed one of the werewolves. I-... I didn't want to."

John closed his eyes and gave himself a precious second to calm his careening thoughts before answering. A cold hard lump rested in his chest, both out of dread and worry.

"Stiles, it's okay."

"N-no, no it's not! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Dad." Stiles seemed to be struggling against tears, which said quite a lot about how distraught Stiles really was. John had rarely seen Stiles cry, especially after his mother died. It was as if he didn't want anyone to worry and therefore held back the most obvious signs of distress. Stiles seemed to think that it was a failure to let his tears fall.

"Stiles, listen to me," John almost pleaded. He didn't want to hear Stiles in such agony. "You did what you had to do. You protected yourself."

John didn't know the details but he refused to believe that it had gone down any other way. Stiles would never have shot someone if it wasn't a matter of life or death. And as painful as it was to hear Stiles fight his sobs John was infinitely relieved that Stiles was actually feeling bad. John would have been terrified if Stiles had just shrugged off killing another person, self-defense or not. The regret showed him that this was still his son – his caring, genuine and good son.

"I'm sorry," Stiles whispered weakly and John had to fight against the burn behind his own eyelids.

"I'm not mad, Stiles. I'm glad you're okay."

"I killed someone." Stiles was definitely crying now and John would have given practically anything to be there and be able to hold him and protect him like he was meant to do. To be forced to hear this over the phone was a very specific kind of torture and John wasn't sure how much more he would be able to withstand. He wanted Stiles there with him.

"I know, Stiles." John forced his voice to remain steady. "But you had to. And I'm not mad."

Stiles didn't reply but John could hear his sobs. John took a deep breath.

"What happened?" He didn't want to force Stiles to re-live it but John needed to know if he had to start preparing ways to keep his son out of jail. There were practical details that needed to be addressed.

Stiles seemed to wipe his nose and clear his throat, obviously understanding the importance of John's question even if he was still reeling from the guilt. John was so proud and felt so helpless, all at once. Stiles shouldn't have to go through this.

"I went by the house, to pick up clothes..." There was a short moment of silence. "Derek called and told me not to but it was already too late. Two of them were there. They-... we struggled and fought and they chased me up to my room. I had the gun in my backpack and then they broke my door and I'm so sorry the door is totally useless now. They broke it. We'll have to get a new one and I just-"

"Stiles. Stiles, it's okay. The door isn't important," John assured, interrupting before his son veered off topic and straight into a panic attack. Stiles had been talking faster and faster the further he got but now had to stop, take a deep breath and then continue. He sounded marginally calmer.

"I got the gun and-... I..." Stiles seemed to have trouble saying it out loud and John was just about to do it for him or at least make sure Stiles didn't have to, but Stiles forced it out on his own. "I shot him. He was about to jump me and I shot him."

John breathed in as calmly as he could.

"What happened to the other werewolf?"

"Derek took care of it."

John hesitated, not really sure how to interpret those words.

"He killed it?" He had to ask. He didn't want to but he had to ask. He needed to know how many bodies there were out there and what he would have to do next.

"Yeah." Stiles voice was hoarse and cracked a little. "Then he helped me get out of there and took me here. It was safer to split up than gather at one place."

John could find several arguments against that but he wasn't going to say them now. Stiles was apparently not very stable and it wasn't as important as knowing that Stiles was okay.

"And you left the bodies?" At their house. John wasn't sure how the neighbors could have missed that but then again, the Garrets were out of town and Mrs. Brown might have been working late, as per usual. Their closest neighbors probably hadn't even been there when it happened.

"No. Well, yes, but the hunters are taking care of it."

"The hunters?" John raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I let them know what happened and they promised to take care of it. They're pretty used to it I'm guessing..."

John wasn't sure if he trusted these still faceless hunters to take care of things but he was quite literally unable to do it himself. He didn't even know _how_ to fix things. He was the sheriff after all and his training and sense of morals told him to call one of his deputies and deal with it through the appropriate legal channels. There had been a break-in and his son had shot one of the intruders in self-defense. People would understand.

But the problem was that John would have to explain why Stiles had had a gun in the first place – which he couldn't without making a bigger mess of things – and John had no idea what the second body looked like. He could assume that it would be similar to all the other bodies they'd found killed by werewolves and whatever Derek had done might be possible to write off as something done by a very vicious dog but they didn't _have_ a dog. Neither John nor Stiles would be able to explain how the second trespasser died if anyone not clued in about werewolves asked.

So perhaps the hunters were the best choice. John guessed that they would make the bodies disappear rather than report it and while he felt guilty for even considering supporting it he wasn't sure what else to do. No one would understand the situation without also knowing about werewolves and they couldn't risk that. John felt vaguely sick at the thought but they had to keep it quiet.

He took a deep breath.

"Good. Then that's handled." John rubbed his forehead and tried to keep a level head. The problem was that it was difficult when your child was involved. "Are you sure that you're okay?"

Stiles chuckled softly on the other end but it held no joy whatsoever.

"Yeah, I'm a little bruised and a little shaky but nothing I can't handle," Stiles assured, but the thing was that it wasn't very comforting at all. Stiles shouldn't have to handle the things he was forced to handle.

"Are you going to stay there for the night?" John couldn't help that he sounded suspicious and fairly protective when he said it. This was his son he was talking to, who was currently in the apartment of an older man who was not only dangerous but a werewolf too. Even if there were no funny business going on there were still a variety of hideous scenarios that could play out.

"Uh-... yeah." Stiles sounded hesitant and wavered slightly but not enough to warrant too much worry. "I've been offered the couch and since I don't really have anywhere else to go-"

"You could come here."

"No, Dad, it's better if-"

"Don't lie to me, Stiles," John almost snapped. He was getting agitated even though he didn't want to, the receiver clutched firmly in his hand. "I know that you don't want to risk posing a bigger target but the threat might very well be over. And what if the opposite applies? That they won't attack if there's too big of a group?"

A silence fell between them and John felt the uneasy squirm of guilt in his chest. He hated when he even so much as raised his voice towards Stiles. He knew that Stiles wasn't frightened by it but that was no reason to do it. Shouting never solved anything – nor did being harsh.

Stiles seemed to take a deep breath.

"Okay, I won't lie." Another short silence. "I don't want to come by tonight. I-... I need some time to think. I want to calm down and deal with all of this before..." His words faded out into nothing and John's heart ached.

"Stiles, you know I'm not mad at you, right? You don't have to hide things from me."

"I know, dad, it's just... I need some time, please? Just tonight. I'll come by in the morning, I promise."

It was incredibly difficult to agree. John respected Stiles' wishes as often as he could but he was still his son. John still had a responsibility to make sure that Stiles was as safe as he could be – and John wasn't sure if that was with Derek Hale right now. The thing that convinced him in the end was that Stiles asked for the trust rather than just hanging up. John knew that their relationship was rockier than usual due to all the secrets and lies that Stiles had kept but he seemed honest now. His son was asking him for some time and while John would have preferred to be there with him he wasn't going to force it. Stiles asked him to trust him and John knew that he had every right not to, but he didn't want to cause a wider rift between them.

"Okay," John finally relented with a resigned sigh. "You're sure that you'll be fine over there?"

"Yeah, Derek is back to his usual habit of ignoring my very existence." John heard the hints of bitterness that Stiles did his best to hide but chose not to comment on it. "I'll just take the couch and he'll deny that I'm even here. I wouldn't miss that for the world. I love oppressing silences and annoyed glares."

A crooked smile spread on John's lips. Stiles being sarcastic was usually a sign of him feeling better – or at least having regained enough control over himself to show that the worst panic was over.

"You be good, son."

Stiles snorted.

"You should tell that to Derek instead. He's the worst host in the history of bad hosts. I'm not even sure if he intends to feed me."

John could only chuckle.

"What?" Stiles asked, clearly offended. "I'm a growing boy and I haven't eaten in a while! I need sustenance!"

"I'm sure that if you nag enough he'll give you something."

"Or shove it down my throat, more likely," Stiles muttered sullenly. John was fairly certain that Stiles was just joking though, which was why he chose not to react negatively to his son's words.

"It will still be food."

Stiles laughed softly.

"Yeah, I guess. So I'll see you tomorrow then?"

Stiles seemed to need the reassurance so John smiled to himself and leaned back more comfortably against his pillows.

"Yes, I'll see you tomorrow."

John still didn't know why Stiles would choose to remain at Derek's place instead of the hospital – he was clearly feeling uncomfortable over there – but John wasn't going to argue. Not now.

"Hey, Dad?" Stiles sounded rushed, as if he had been afraid that John would hang up before he had time to finish. "I love you."

John had to struggle a little to be able to draw his next breath. It wasn't like John didn't know that Stiles loved him, it was just that he couldn't help feeling the weight of his responsibility as a single parent every time Stiles told him so. John didn't mind it – he would fight tooth and nail to protect his son without a moment's thought – but it was still staggering sometimes. And it always made him miss his wife. He wished that she could have been there with them, just for a little while longer.

"I love you too, Stiles," John replied without hesitation or delay. Because no matter how tough things were he always would.

"Okay, bye."

The relief in Stiles' voice lingered with John long after he had hung up. He didn't know what was going through his son's head most hours of the day – which was most likely a blessing – but there were times when he would give a lot just for a short glimpse. Just something that would make it easier for him to understand and help.

As it was now he could only go on guesses and what little he could interpret. Then again, that was better than nothing and he knew that as long as he made an effort Stiles would always be there to meet him half way. Stiles would never give up on them. Family meant too much to Stiles for him not to do that and John was no different. Family was everything.

John took a deep breath and glanced down at the wedding ring he still wore on his left ring finger. Sometimes family was all you would ever need.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the sheriff. And I loved writing this chapter.  
> And no, of course he won't be all too thrilled about the whole Stiles and Derek thing, but I'm going to work on it, don't you worry. Still, the 'no sex before you're legal'-thing will most definitely apply. For the sake of all parties involved.
> 
> My beta, [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum), calls this the Sherifflude. She has also started calling the entire part Running With Slash instead of Running With Wolves. If it wasn't for the fact that I enjoy it too much I would get myself a less sassy beta.
> 
> You can find me over at my [Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/) if you have any questions!


	11. Mute

 

* * *

 

Stiles woke feeling miserable, pathetic and groggy. After the call to his dad the night before Stiles had changed out of his ripped shirt into a fresh one from his backpack and braved the rest of the loft in search for Derek or food – preferably both – and came out relatively victorious. It all depended on how you defined victorious. The alpha had only given him a short, harsh growl and a vague gesture towards the kitchen, which Stiles had taken as permission to raid Derek's fridge. Something the alpha was probably regretting now that all the Pop-Tarts were gone.

The fact that Derek even _had_ Pop-Tarts had amused Stiles for several seconds until he opened his mouth to tease the alpha about it, only to remember that he was currently treated as a plague-carrier. He had shut it with an audible clack and just continued to eat. All while trying to ignore that there was no way that Derek _hadn't_ heard how Stiles had bawled his eyes out while talking to his dad. The fact that the alpha wasn't talking to him was perhaps a blessing in that sense because Stiles didn't have to feel embarrassed about his own weakness.

Derek probably thought that he was silly for reacting the way he did when it came to killing someone.

There had been no conversation or communication whatsoever besides that. Not even when it was time to go to bed did Stiles manage to squeeze in a word or two. Derek had just suddenly dumped a blanket and a pillow on the couch before disappearing into his own room, shutting the door firmly behind himself. And Stiles might be a little lacking in the self-preservation department but he knew better than to knock on that door when it was such a clear sign that the alpha wanted to be left alone.

Stiles didn't know what had gone wrong. He had lain on the couch, unable to sleep, trying to figure out where he had fucked up. Derek had been civil – playful and teasing even – most of the previous evening but then he just suddenly turned hostile and lashed out. Stiles still didn't know if Derek had meant what he said when he insinuated that Stiles wasn't worth the effort and that he helped only because Stiles was pack, but it was apparent that something had set him off. The problem was that Derek had so many buttons that you could push and since Stiles didn't know about even half of them it happened accidentally even when he tried to be nice. Something had upset Derek last night and the alpha had reacted with anger, as per usual. If only Stiles knew why, then he might actually have been able to apologize. Or, well, at least try.

As it was now he could only guess and he knew better than to ask outright. Derek would just clam up and give him another scathing glare. Stiles sighed miserably into his borrowed pillow before burying deeper under the surprisingly soft blanket, curling up into a small, pathetic ball on the couch. There was a dull ache in his foot and his t-shirt kept scratching against the thin claw marks on his shoulder. He sort of welcomed the pain though. It was something else to focus on than his jumbled thoughts and chaotic emotions.

He had no idea what time it was but wasn't conscious enough to bother checking his phone. Derek's had disappeared from the living room table while Stiles was hunting for food the previous night so he assumed that the alpha had reclaimed it.

Stiles heard a sound from the kitchen but instead of looking up and trying to identify the source he just stayed put, wallowing in his own misery. He had rather liked it when Derek was being nice to him. It wasn't nice according to anyone else's standards because the alpha was vicious on a good day and murderous on his bad ones, but it had been a pleasant change. Derek had almost seemed normal there for a while. And Stiles had liked it. Now it was ruined and Stiles didn't even know why.

Footsteps echoed in the loft – which was a little odd because Stiles knew for a fact that Derek could move soundlessly when he wanted to – and when Stiles realized that they were heading in the vague direction of the couch he curled up tighter, hiding his face against the pillow as best as he could. Immature and completely unreasonable perhaps but it was what he did.

The steps faltered before fading entirely and if Stiles hadn't know better he would have thought that Derek had stopped to stare at him. But Stiles couldn't really tell because he was facing the back of the couch and had his eyes closed.

"Breakfast."

It was almost surreal to hear Derek speak a word related to food – Stiles had still never seen the alpha eat after all – and it took him a moment to realize that it might have been an offer to imbibe said food. Stiles perked up at that, or at least enough to pull himself out of his improvised cocoon of woe.

Derek had already stalked back to the kitchen by the time Stiles tumbled off the couch, barely able to extract his limbs from the blanket without seriously injuring himself. He padded into the kitchen as silently and carefully as he could, not certain what mood the alpha would be in that morning. It also kept the ache in his foot to a minimum.

Derek didn't look angrier than usual but definitely less approachable than those moments in the Camaro last night. Stiles chose not to say anything and instead gave in to his rumbling stomach. Derek seemed to have already eaten – to Stiles' disappointment – but there were dirty dishes and the alpha was currently sipping on some coffee, so at least there was proof that he actually _did_ need to eat like regular people. Stiles hadn't been too sure about that before.

It was mind bogging to pour himself a bowl of milk and cereal because it was Derek's milk and cereal. Derek ate milk and cereal. Stiles had almost been certain that Derek survived on will alone or alternatively the suffering of others, not actual people-food. Still, he couldn't deny that it tasted good and that it was a relief to be given some breakfast.

It felt odd though, sitting in Derek's kitchen while the alpha stood leaning against one of the counters with a coffee cup in his hand, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Sure, that was what Derek usually wore but without the leather jacket he looked so casual and domestic and it was distracting. So Stiles didn't blame himself whenever he caught himself staring.

"Does your foot hurt?"

Stiles jumped at the sudden question, the silence having lain so thick over the kitchen that Derek's voice sounded loud and out of place, even if he hadn't raised it above his normal level. Stiles chewed and swallowed his spoonful of cereal, hesitating for a moment. Then he just licked his lips and shook his head.

It was clearly a lie – his foot hurt quite a bit – but like he suspected Derek didn't ask again or push the issue. The fact that the alpha had said anything at all was a miracle in itself, especially since it concerned Stiles' state of health.

Stiles kept eating in silence.

Eventually Derek finished his coffee and left the kitchen, presumably to brood in his room. Stiles stayed, feeling a bit sluggish and tired despite having slept rather soundly once he finally did fall asleep. A sneaking headache was making itself known and Stiles suppressed a sigh.

He wasn't okay. He was everything but okay but he had to keep going anyway. That was always how it was. He was shaken from what had happened last night – the chase, the panic and the fact that he had killed someone – and Derek's sudden hostility didn't exactly help. But he hadn't lied to his dad when he insisted on staying here. He had needed the time. He felt better than last night, that much was certain. He just wasn't quite okay yet – but that was probably a bit too much to ask.

He got up eventually and since he didn't see a dishwasher anywhere he set about to do the dishes. There wasn't much and while he had just intended to do his own bowl at first the rest just sort of followed. He didn't mind because it occupied his hands while leaving his thoughts carefully blank, numbed by the repetitive and simple task.

Stiles was drying his hands on a kitchen towel when Derek returned and if the alpha found the lack of dishes surprising, disturbing or any other kind of adjective he didn't say anything or show it.

"Get your things. I'll drive you to the hospital."

Stiles saw no reason to object and merely gave a small nod as reply. The alpha seemed to clench his jaw even if Stiles couldn't phantom why. He hadn't been the least bit rude that morning. And he had promised his dad to go the hospital so he wasn't going to object to that either. The result of Derek's annoyance was that Stiles kept his head down, just in case. Stiles didn't have the energy to argue with the alpha when Derek was just being unreasonably cranky.

Stiles quietly went to fetch his backpack and phone. He took his Adderall dry which might not be recommended but he didn't want to hobble back into the kitchen just to get some water. When Stiles turned around Derek was already by the door, looking impatient and agitated. Stiles bit back a sigh and limped over to where he had left his shoes.

He had done his best to clean the left one but it was clearly ruined beyond saving. If it wasn't for the fact that they were at his house he would have gone to get his spare pair but he wasn't going anywhere near home before he knew that there weren't any corpses there. If Allison had tried to update him on the hunters' task of clearing out the dead bodies Stiles hadn't seen it because he didn't have Derek's phone anymore and he hadn't felt brave enough to try and use his own.

He put on his shoes, wincing visibly when he came to his left, before following Derek out of the loft. Instead of watching the alpha lock the door Stiles limped over to the elevator and pushed the button, finding that to be a much more productive task. He and Derek were still left in a somewhat awkward silence while they waited for the elevator to arrive. Stiles had nothing to say and Derek rarely talked to begin with. It was almost a relief when they were able to step inside and begin their descent.

Stiles felt rather good about getting to carry his own backpack until they stepped outside the building and he misjudged a step thanks to his severely crippled gait. At first he reached out for Derek's arm for support – some kind of reflex he didn't even know he had – but when he realized his mistake he snatched his hand back so fast that he overbalanced thanks to his backpack and lost his footing completely instead. He gave a surprised little gasp when he hit the ground.

It was just short of pathetic really.

Derek gave Stiles a look that was part surprise and part something else that Stiles couldn't name. Probably resentment. Or anger maybe. It was difficult to say but all of it gave Stiles this insane urge to just throw up his hands and not give a damn anymore. He could stay there on the ground for the rest of his life. He was pretty certain that he could.

Not that he got much of a choice in the matter because Derek grabbed his arm – surprisingly careful not to grasp anywhere near the big purple bruise Stiles was sporting on his elbow – and hoisted him back up onto his feet. Stiles gave a frustrated sigh but didn't object. Besides, Derek let him keep the backpack and said nothing about the entire embarrassing incident and instead just headed for where he had parked the Camaro the other night. Stiles followed at a much more subdued pace.

It wasn't until Stiles had climbed into the car with the backpack in his lap that Derek actually spoke.

"Do you need to call your dad?"

Stiles shook his head. His dad knew that he was coming, like he had promised. Something flashed in Derek's eyes for a brief moment but it was gone so fast that Stiles didn't have the time to see what it was. Probably resentment again.

Stiles slumped lower in his seat, staring lazily out the window while Derek drove them towards the hospital. The ride wasn't nearly as soothing as it had been the other night but it wasn't bad. Stiles remained silent, absently toying with the zipper of his backpack.

"The hunters cleared out your house last night," Derek suddenly said. Stiles glanced over at the alpha, glad to hear the news but he didn't really know what to contribute with so he just gave a non-committal shrug. He still didn't want to go back to his house just yet. The hospital was better.

The Camaro swerved suddenly and Stiles had a moment to fear a crash before he realized that it was just Derek pulling to the side of the road with a lot less care than recommended. Stiles stared at the alpha, who looked somewhere between livid and furious. And Stiles felt somewhere between frustrated and fucking angry. He hadn't done anything this time – he knew he hadn't. There was no reason for Derek to look like Stiles had offended him somehow.

Derek was gritting his teeth and staring straight ahead with a tight grip around the steering wheel. The car was idling but Derek made no move to continue driving. Stiles wasn't impressed and didn't feel gracious enough to ask what was wrong. To his surprise Derek was the one who did.

"What's wrong?" The alpha sounded as if he wanted to murder someone and Stiles gave him a quizzical look. Clearly it was Derek who had issues of some kind, not Stiles. Before he had time to say so Derek turned towards him and gave him a fierce look. "Why won't you talk?"

Stiles blinked, honestly baffled.

"You haven't said a word the entire morning," Derek accused and Stiles frowned in confusion, not understanding how that would be an issue. Derek was usually the one who told him to shut up. "It's been almost two _hours_ , Stiles, and you haven't said a word."

To be honest, Stiles hadn't even been aware of it himself. Which was a little odd perhaps because he usually talked, yes, but there were times when even he wasn't in the mood.

"So?" Stiles asked, his voice a little raspier than normal.

Derek seemed to be struggling with himself, as if he didn't know what he wanted to respond – which had to be a first – and Stiles waited patiently. He wasn't going to make this easy for Derek, not this time. If Derek had a problem he would have to say so.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked eventually, apparently finding that it was the most neutral option.

Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Nothing is wrong. I just don't feel like it." He shrugged without putting much effort into it.

"You always talk."

"And you hate that!" Stiles snapped back. "Which you remind me of all the time! So why the fuck are you complaining even when I'm silent?"

Derek seemed to be inches from throttling Stiles – or at least threatening to do so – but he must have curbed that urge because nothing happened. The alpha did press his lips together into a thin line though and Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and gave Derek an unimpressed look. He wasn't going to budge on this one. He wasn't even sure what was wrong. Sure, Stiles might have been unnaturally silent but why Derek even reacted to it was a mystery. Derek hated when Stiles talked.

"There has to be something," Derek said eventually, haltingly almost, as if he wasn't sure what he was doing. And then, all of a sudden, Stiles realized that Derek truly didn't. Derek was so out of his depth that it was both laughable and incredibly tragic.

Derek was _worried_.

That was the only explanation that made sense. Derek wouldn't go out of his way to ask those questions, as if trying to lure Stiles into a conversation, if it wasn't because he cared somehow. Stiles didn't know how to take that but it was the only thing he could think of. Which was why he took a deep breath and tried to hold back some of his own frustration.

"I just thought that it would be for the best." Stiles pursed his lips at Derek's raised eyebrow, as if the alpha couldn't understand why Stiles would choose to be quiet. "Because you seemed pissed off enough already." Stiles shrugged nonchalantly but felt everything but. "I didn't want to make it worse. Not after how you snarled at me last night."

A silence fell inside the Camaro, disturbed only by the distant hum of the engine and the occasional car that drove by. Stiles spent it staring out the window, not even gracing Derek with a look.

"I didn't mean that you should shut up entirely."

Stiles let out a slow breath before turning his head to meet the alpha's gaze.

"Then what did you mean?"

Derek stared back, probably because looking away would have made him seem weak, but Stiles could tell that the alpha was uncomfortable. He always seemed to be whenever slightly emotional subjects were brought up.

"I meant..." Derek hesitated, which was a rarity in itself and Stiles almost felt bad for the alpha. But only almost. Derek needed to learn to share things that were important. "I just wanted to change the subject."

Stiles couldn't help giving an ugly snort.

"And _that_ was your way of doing that? Telling me that I'm practically worthless and that the things I find important don't matter? Seriously." Stiles couldn't help sounding a little bitter – and a little hurt too. "There are other ways to change the subject. Less insulting ways."

"I didn't mean that either."

Stiles stifled his urge to groan. Talking to Derek was a challenge for Stiles' patience but he had to admit that it would be worth it if they could sort things out and perhaps return to their less strained relationship. Stiles was still pretty certain that he had been reading too much into Derek's behavior and seen what he wanted to see but there was no denying that they could be a lot more civil with each other than this.

"You mean that you don't think that I'm worthless?"

"You're not." The answer came surprisingly quickly, so quickly in fact that Stiles had to blink. "You're infuriating and annoying but not worthless." Even with Derek's slightly condescending tone that could almost be considered a compliment.

"And I'm guessing that you're not going tell me what pissed you off in the first place? Because I know that there was something that made you go all defensive on me," Stiles asked but Derek's responding glare was answer enough. Stiles sighed, shoulders slumping. "Thought so."

"I'm sorry."

Stiles head snapped back to stare at Derek so fast he almost reeled. He had to have imagined it. Derek didn't apologize to _anyone_ – least of all Stiles. But the expression on the alpha's face was far too pinched to suggest anything else. Stiles blinked in shock.

"What?" he asked in disbelief. Derek huffed.

"I'm not going to say it again." The alpha sounded adorably cranky of all things, as if repeating it would hurt his reputation or something.

"But-... what?" Stiles gaped but hurried to clarify in order to avoid an impatient look from Derek. "I mean, what are you apologizing for?"

Wow. Stiles never thought that he would see the day when _Derek_ apologized for something. Stiles seemed to be pushing his luck if Derek's glare was anything to go by but the alpha answered, even if it was through gritted teeth and with much reluctance.

"For snapping."

Not the most descriptive or sincere apology but for Derek it was a miracle. And for once Stiles decided to be gracious. He relaxed against the backrest and smiled – a little crookedly but it was an honest and calm smile at least, not a grin.

"Okay. You're off the hook," Stiles said before chuckling softly. "Who can stay mad at someone with such a cuddly face anyway?"

Derek didn't seem to know how to react to that and just stared at Stiles as if he was some strange species that Derek just couldn't understand. It was both insulting and flattering somehow because the alpha didn't seem put off by it, just confused. As if he couldn't quite grasp what Stiles was about but kept trying to get it anyway.

Stiles laughed before slapping Derek's arm, almost playfully.

"Get back to driving. Or else we'll never get to the hospital."

Derek seemed to snap back to the present and turned towards the steering wheel with a wry but not entirely unpleasant quirk to his lips. It wasn't quite a smile but close enough.

"Oh, and if you ever want to change the subject again that desperately – tell me." Stiles gestured as he talked, just because he could. "I can't guarantee that I'll stop but at least it will be my own fault if I don't listen and you chew me out for it. Deal?"

Derek was in the middle of pulling back out onto the road but apparently found the time to glance towards Stiles.

"Deal." And now there was almost positively a smile on Derek's lips. Or as close as Stiles had ever seen Derek get to real smile. It was awesome.

Stiles felt giddy and happy all of a sudden while his heart did some funny little dips in his chest. He got the insane urge to reach out and take Derek's hand, much like the impulse he had curbed back at the hospital during the conversation with Chris Argent, but for a totally different reason this time. Stiles just wanted to feel Derek's palm against his own and have his fingers laced together with his. It was such a simple wish yet still so incredibly scary. Because it was emotional and genuine, not hormonal and fleeting. Stiles knew that those were foolish yearnings. It would never happen.

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek and forced his hands to remain clutching his backpack. He really needed to do something about those urges now that he knew that they were most likely unwanted. It would take some time though.

The rest of the ride to the hospital passed in comfortable silence – one that neither of them seemed interested in breaking. To Stiles' surprise Derek actually parked the car and got out himself once they arrived and as if the alpha could sense Stiles confusion he explained even before Stiles had the time to ask.

"Scott and Boyd are still here. I need to talk to them."

Oh. That made sense. And then Stiles realized that Scott and Boyd must have been there all night, which made him feel incredibly guilty. He hadn't really thought that far when he told them to stay with Danny and his dad. He knew from experience how uncomfortable it was to stay overnight at the hospital and they hadn't even gotten a choice in the matter.

Stiles cursed under his breath while climbing out of Derek's Camaro, not as far behind Derek as he would have thought. He was either limping faster or Derek was walking slower than usual. Stiles couldn't say which it was.

They found Scott and Boyd soon enough, who together with Danny seemed to have invaded Stiles' dad's room. Not that his dad seemed to mind but Stiles froze on the threshold, just staring at his three classmates. That was not what he had been expecting. Derek should have warned him.

"Stiles."

Stiles jolted in surprise even if his father's voice had been soft and not very frightening at all. He turned to look at his dad, just as he felt a warm and soothing touch between his shoulder blades. It wasn't until Derek spoke that Stiles realized that it had to be him. Because Derek was still standing behind him, unable to enter the room because Stiles was blocking the doorway.

"Sheriff Stilinski."

Well, Derek was certainly being polite today. Stiles just hoped that his dad didn't see where Derek's hand was – innocent as it might be – because it would be an awkward thing to explain, no doubt. Which was why Stiles pressed back briefly, just to show that he appreciated the effort, before stepping into the room. Or, well, limping into the room, which all four other occupants seemed to zero in on immediately.

Stiles' dad's 'I thought you said it wasn't so bad' mixed with Scott's scandalized 'you didn't say you were hurt', while Danny drawled 'I guess I wasn't the only unlucky one'. Boyd just looked displeased which Stiles took as a sign that Boyd was a little worried too.

"Geez! Calm down!" Stiles shouted while waving his arms, barely reacting when Derek reached out and plucked his backpack from his shoulder before it fell to the floor. "I'm fine, okay? It's just a slightly perforated ankle. I'm going to have it checked out but I think they're just going to bandage it and send me on my way. Perhaps give me crutches. Are crutches cool?"

"No," Derek deadpanned while placing the backpack as far from the other werewolves as possible, reminding Stiles what was in it once again.

He was surprised that Derek hadn't said anything about it during the night he had spent at his loft but perhaps it was an alpha thing. Or maybe just a Derek thing. He seemed very resilient when it came to most things and perhaps it was easier to fight the wolfsbane's influence when you had already been infected with it as many times as Derek had.

"Well, at least they would be perfect for hitting people with," Stiles threatened and gave the alpha an insulted glare, but it was a very lame threat to use against a werewolf. Derek seemed to think the same if the raised eyebrow and unimpressed look was anything to go by.

"Stiles, you should have said something!" Scott complained, walking over to Stiles and seemingly trying to steer him to a chair, which, sure, was rather considerate but also annoying. Stiles had a limp, not an amputated limb. Still, to show his good gracious nature he did as Scott suggested and sat down. Scott continued to baby him while Stiles replied to the various array of questions with as much patience as he could. He kept glancing towards the other people in the room though.

And that was how he noticed that his dad was eyeing Derek rather suspiciously. Stiles wasn't sure how to take that and it seemed that neither did Derek. The alpha kept having to force himself to keep a neutral and calm expression instead of frowning menacingly at Stiles' dad – which was usually Derek's knee-jerk reaction to any kind of hostility. The fact that Derek even made the effort not to look like a murderous serial killer in front of Stiles' dad was endearing.

"Scott. Boyd," Derek suddenly said in a calm but commanding voice, followed by a nod towards the door. It was a clear sign that he wanted them to step outside with him and both betas looked up obediently when being addressed. It was both comical and slightly unsettling to watch.

While they had been a pack for a couple of days now there had never been such instinctual respect for Derek – least of all from Scott. But Stiles chose to take it as a good thing. He had no doubt that Scott would still object to doing things that were unethical or immoral but this made things easier.

Boyd got up soon enough but Scott lingered with Stiles, clearly torn between staying with his best friend and doing as Derek asked. Which was why Stiles gave Scott an encouraging nod and gently shooed him out of the room. Whatever Derek wanted it was probably important. He also kind of hoped that Derek would explain exactly what had happened back at Stiles' house because Scott still didn't know how close of a call it had been. Stiles was too much of a chicken to want to tell him himself. He was still terrified of what Scott might feel about it – what Scott would say when he found out that Stiles had killed someone. His stomach churned.

Stiles let out a small sigh once the werewolves had left and refused to look at his father. Stiles' dad would probably be more alarmed than impressed by how Boyd and Scott followed Derek's orders.

"I'm glad to see that you're at least mainly whole," Danny said casually from where he sat closer to the window, his left arm in a cast but looking pretty good apart from that. Stiles could see a purpling bruise on his arm and a small scratch on his right hand but considering what he had gone up against Danny definitely got out on top of that fight. Stiles smiled.

"The same to you. Although I'm guessing that cast will be a bit of a bitch."

Danny shrugged.

"It's not like I haven't broken bones before. It'll heal. It was a very clean break, luckily enough."

Stiles was glad that Danny took it so casually but, then again, he did that most of the time. Often with a sarcastic, slightly mocking edge but still casually. Not much seemed to rattle Danny once he had gotten a grip on something.

"Stiles, are you sure that you're alright?"

Stiles looked up at his father's words, reading confusion in his expression. Which was quite understandable considering the mood Stiles had been in the previous night. But most of that was gone now that Derek had apologized and Stiles was back at the hospital with his dad. Sure, there was still that heavy, oppressing knowledge that he had killed someone – and he doubted that would go away anytime soon – but he could handle it.

"Yeah," he therefore said, smiling calmly and honestly, "I'm okay. Much better than yesterday."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that." His dad still sounded vaguely suspicious but Stiles wasn't going to ask why. Mainly because he assumed that it involved Derek and he was so not going to bring that up voluntarily.

Instead he forced Danny to explain what had happened on his end while smoothly avoiding responding in kind. He didn't know how to tell people that he had just shot and killed one of the werewolves, even if they were the enemy. He did explain that two of them were dead though and that it meant that there were only nine left. There was some relief to be had in that but Stiles wasn't sure how much it was going to help when they still couldn't pinpoint where they were and get rid of the rest of them.

Scott returned eventually – Stiles tried to tell himself that he wasn't disappointed that Derek didn't too – but it was only to explain that they were heading out to continue their search. There were new trails to follow after last night and Stiles understood that completely. Scott also lingered to add, in a much more subdued voice, that Isaac and Erica had been kind enough to go to the Stilinski household and clean up all the blood and the broken furniture, which had been left even after the hunters had cleared out the bodies.

Stiles was shocked by the news, not because he doubted that Isaac and Erica would be that nice but because he just couldn't figure out when they had had time to do it. The answer to that was apparently that very same morning, when it had seemed safe to leave Lydia with Jackson and they were sure that the hunters had disposed of the bodies. Stiles had to remind himself to hug both of the baby betas next time he saw them, probable objections be damned. They were awesome.

His dad seemed to feel the same and Stiles couldn't deny that he was a little pleased to notice that his dad was really warming up to the pack. Well, except Derek, apparently. But perhaps that was asking a bit too much this early in the process.

Stiles could tell that Scott was worried though, no doubt from having realized just what had gone down in the Stilinski household the other night. Stiles didn't know how much Derek had told him but Scott obviously knew better than to ask. The expression on his face really said it all though. It was a mix between pleading and guilty, as if he wanted nothing more than to stay with Stiles and make sure that he was okay, no matter if the support would be needed or not.

Stiles was grateful for the concern and the swell of affection it caused in his chest but since he was rather keen to leave it all behind him he had no intention of fuelling Scott's protective instincts.

So he shooed Scott out once again before Derek had time to come back and fetch him and wasn't all that surprised when Danny chose to leave not long after. Danny wished both Stiles and his dad goodbye before promising to take care and yes, he was going to call Lydia to get picked up and not walk home on his own.

Stiles almost wanted to follow him to the hospital exit just to make sure that he was really okay but that would probably have been too much. They were lucky that Danny's parents were out of town though, otherwise they would have had difficulties explaining the sudden werewolf attack. The broken arm could at least be blamed on an accident during lacrosse practice or something.

A pressing silence fell over the hospital room when it was just Stiles and his dad left. Stiles knew why. His dad wanted him to explain his choice of staying with Derek and perhaps where all the sadness from the previous night had gone, but Stiles didn't want to talk about that and therefore fetched the two books he had borrowed from Deaton and Ms. Morrell, hoping that his dad would understand not to press for a conversation.

His dad apparently caught the blatant hint, albeit with a displeased frown, and Stiles breathed a small sigh of relief. He wouldn't know what to say because his dad wanted answers Stiles didn't quite have yet. But eventually he would. And then they would talk.

Stiles promised himself that they would.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... is it okay for me to love this chapter? At least a little bit?  
>  I'm pretty fond of the silly boys - especially when they slowly but surely learn to communicate. 
> 
> And yeah, the sheriff miiiiiight not be entirely okay with Derek xD It's quite adorable, no?
> 
> As always I want to thank my beta, [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum), because she is awesome and tireless despite not even being in the fandom in the first place.


	12. War

 

* * *

 

Like Stiles suspected there wasn't much to be said or done about his foot. He got it cleaned, got some bandages, a pain killer and was told not to strain it too much. Stiles was almost relived by how simple it was and limped back to his dad's hospital room with a slight smile.

He froze the moment he turned down the corridor leading to his dad's room though because Gary the hunter was seated in one of the chairs placed along the wall. Stiles wasn't quite sure how he was expected to react to that. He hadn't seen the hunter since the meeting two nights ago and Stiles hadn't exactly missed him. Gary wasn't a nice man.

"Wolf boy," Gary greeted with a nod that somehow managed to be both teasing and polite.

"Gary," Stiles replied evenly, inching a little to his right, away from the man. He had no idea what to think but the hunter seemed to find his caution amusing if anything.

"Relax, kid. I'm just here to make sure that nothing happens while the dogs are out playing in the woods."

Stiles felt insulted on his pack's behalf but held it back as best he could.

"So you're saying that your invaluable tracking skills aren't needed elsewhere? No lost kittens to find?" Stiles could do the nasty sarcasm too. He was actually quite the master of it.

To his surprise Gary only grinned.

"I'm mostly called in when it concerns puppies, not kittens."

"Well, you won't find any lost ones here," Stiles retorted, knowing that the hunters didn't technically know about the united pack yet but Gary probably wouldn't take it as such either.

"Oh?"

"Nope. I got it all under control," Stiles replied with a casual shrug. Because he did. He was keeping an eye on all the betas and had both Scott and Derek to help him when needed. They weren't going to feel lost ever again if Stiles had any say in the matter and luckily enough he did. He was going to take care of them all, even Derek.

"Well, well... you really are a wolf boy, aren't you?"

"Yeah, it's a skill. I was just born with it I guess," Stiles deadpanned with a carefree little smile that was all faked.

Gary seemed to find it amusing either way judging on his responding chuckle.

"If you're such a natural I'm guessing you know why they attacked you humans last night, right?"

The sudden shift in topic brought Stiles slightly out of balance but he caught on admirably quick none the less. His smile faded and he cleared his throat, knowing that this was serious business.

"Yeah. All of the wolves have humans they wish to protect and it's their weakest point. Not only because we humans are frail but because us getting hurt would mean a huge failure on the werewolves' part. Their instinct is to protect those they care about and they would go nuts if they didn't manage."

"Good." The praise sounded surprisingly sincere coming from the snarky hunter. "And that's why I'm going to give you this word of advice – don't let these bastards create any kind of friction or doubt between your wolves." Gary gave him a serious look and Stiles stared right back. "That's how a pack, and most certainly an unorganized group like yours, gets taken down. We use it all the time. Keep them united at all costs otherwise this pack is going to pick them off one by one."

Stiles frowned.

"Well duh. That's obvious."

Gary looked momentarily annoyed.

"No, wolf boy, it's not. They're going to come at you and your wolves any way they can – and not just by attacking you humans. If there's even the slightest bit of hesitation or doubt amongst your ranks they'll find it and use it. They'll turn you against each other."

Stiles swallowed. They really couldn't afford that. Jackson was still a loose canon and Scott – while having gotten a lot better – was still likely to object as soon as something he didn't like occurred. Even Lydia could become a problem because she never bent to anyone but technically had to admit herself as being below Derek. They really weren't ready for this.

"Yeah, okay." Stiles knew that he sounded hesitant and Gary must have picked up on that. The hunter didn't look condescending or mean though.

"I like you, kid, which is why I want this to go as well as possible, okay?" There was even a slight smile on Gary's lips, which made the man's thin face look much more human than any other expression Stiles had seen him wear. "So my recommendation is to unite under that alpha of yours and make sure that he remains strong."

Stiles knew that he couldn't trust Gary but in that moment he would have liked to say that they already had. They were one pack already, even if it was a little unstable still. Stiles licked his lips and rubbed at the back of his neck.

"I know. It's just that not all of them trust the alpha." That wasn't a lie at least.

"Then you show that you do," Gary replied with a shrug. Stiles looked at him in confusion and the hunter sighed patiently. "I'm not just a tracker, kid, I read people quite well too. That omega at the meeting? He'll follow your lead. If you show that you trust the alpha the rest of them probably will too. You might be a human but you don't have to be able to grow fur to make an impact."

Stiles was speechless for a moment, not sure whether to thank the hunter for the obvious compliment or just pretend that he was used to it. Gary seemed to take his silence as a cue to continue.

"Besides, the alpha seemed to have a soft spot for you as well."

Stiles almost flinched in surprise but managed to keep himself from saying anything, luckily enough. Otherwise some really odd and probably genuinely embarrassing words would have dribbled out of his mouth. Now he took a precious second to gather himself before replying.

"He listens when he's feeling generous." Stiles felt that it was a good response. Diplomatic yet not too revealing or a lie either. Gary chuckled.

"Come on. It's a bit more than that, isn't it?"

Stiles was baffled. Why did people keep assuming strange things were going on between him and Derek? Danny, his dad and now a hunter for crying out loud. This was really beginning to freak Stiles out because he thought that it was just all in his head. Was he being that obvious? That wouldn't do. If he wasn't careful Derek might pick up on it and toss Stiles out of the pack or something. He really needed to snuff this out before more people caught on.

Not that Stiles was admitting to anything – oh no, he was still in denial – but he had to make sure that it remained his secret.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he answered, face blank and uncaring.

Gary gave a disbelieving snort.

"Yeah right." The hunter shook his head softly. "Well, either way, you should probably work on his... _obedience training_. He seemed a little tense." Gary leered and by _God_ it sounded perverted. Stiles knew that he was blushing but pretended that he wasn't. Fuck his life. He wasn't doing _that_ kind of obedience training and least of all with Derek who would rip his throat out if he so much as tried. Gary seemed amused thought. "Stick by the alpha, wolf boy, and the rest will follow."

"Thanks for the advice. I guess," Stiles replied, voice pitched a little higher than usual. Gary gave him a short nod before leaning back in his chair.

"Now run along, kid. I'll make sure no one comes to eat you or your dad."

Stiles rolled his eyes.

"I feel safer already," he replied with an overabundance of sarcasm. Gary just smirked and gestured for Stiles to continue down the corridor, which he did after giving the hunter an amused smile.

The man was still an ass but perhaps not as bad as Stiles had first thought. Stiles didn't trust him but Gary had had a point – except when it came to that obedience training thing. Stiles was pushing those thoughts as far away as possible. No need going there.

When he reached the door leading into his dad's hospital room he couldn't help glancing towards Gary one last time but the hunter was looking at his fingernails with a bored expression, clearly not acknowledging Stiles' presence anymore. Which was probably for the best. Stiles shook his head softly before opening the door and stepping inside.

He couldn't help smiling at both his dad and Mrs. McCall, who was apparently there to do a checkup.

"What did the doctor say?" Trust his dad to put Stiles' well-being first.

"Exactly what I thought she would. It won't kill me and I shouldn't strain it. She even gave me a kickass painkiller so I don't feel much pain at all. Or anything else for that matter." He did a dorky thumbs up and his dad smiled in that patient yet suffering manner that seemed to become standard when dealing with Stiles for too long periods at a time.

"You were lucky," Mrs. McCall said but she sounded reprimanding rather than relieved, as if she would have preferred if he hadn't gotten hurt in the first place. A feeling Stiles was in total agreement with. "Now sit down and rest that foot of yours."

"Yes, ma'am!" Stiles saluted before limping over to the chair where he had left the two heavy tomes he had borrowed from Deaton and Ms. Morrell. Mrs. McCall smiled patiently – and fondly – before turning back to Stiles' dad. Stiles chose to focus on his books.

Stiles had actually been surprised and impressed by how little damage the books had taken considering the violent treatment Stiles had put them through, but was also secretly glad. He didn't want to return them in a bad shape and perhaps be banned from borrowing more. They were truly fascinating and Stiles was soon so engrossed in the secrets they revealed that he forgot all about the rest of the world.

Or at least until he heard a laugh that snapped him right out of it. He looked up, genuinely surprised to hear his dad sound so at ease and cheerful. Stiles hadn't heard his dad laugh like that in a long, long time. Probably not since Stiles' mom had died.

Stiles glanced between his dad and Mrs. McCall, feeling something warm yet slightly aching spread within his chest. They really seemed to enjoy talking to each other. His dad was relaxed and smiling while Mrs. McCall looked effortlessly happy. Stiles realized that this wasn't the first time they did this. Mrs. McCall probably came to check on Stiles' dad every day and most of that had been when Stiles hadn't been in the room. The two of them had probably talked a lot more than Stiles had first thought.

Huh.

Sure, his dad and Mrs. McCall had always been on good terms and were known to sit together during the few games of lacrosse they both had time to watch, work being a bit too demanding for both of them, but this was different. At the games they were there as parents first and foremost but here they were two adults talking to each other because they wanted to.

Stiles didn't know if there was anything more to it – and he couldn't deny that he felt a small twinge of longing for his mother at the mere thought – but it was nice to see his dad enjoy himself. Whatever it was it seemed to be something that kept his dad from being so alone and Stiles was all for that.

But if he secretly hoped for something more, well, you couldn't blame him. The prospect of becoming Scott's actual brother was a bit too tempting, after all.

He would just have to wait and see.

 

 

Stiles yawned while he trudged unevenly along the hospital corridor. His foot felt better already but the limp wasn't entirely gone even if Stiles tried his best not to flinch whenever he put his weight on it. He knew that he was far too restless to be wounded and would probably have to be chained down if he ever managed to acquire worse injuries than this. He just didn't have the peace of mind or body to sit down and rest.

It was closing in on late evening by then and Stiles was waiting for Scott to come back from the woods so that they could go home to the McCall's and sleep. Mrs. McCall had a night shift so they had been promised the car, mostly because no one wanted to force Stiles to limp between the hospital and the McCall house. Not even Stiles thought that was a good idea, no matter how impatient or restless he was. He still mourned that he hadn't been able to get the Jeep but he was in no shape to drive anyway.

He had spent the day plowing through the books he had borrowed, for once finding the focus to keep concentrating on one task for more than a couple of minutes. Even if much of it was things he already knew it was nice to get some of his theories confirmed and see details he had only been able to guess before. He wasn't sure if anything would help their current situation but at least he didn't feel completely useless.

Stiles had been almost entirely disconnected from the rest of the pack during the majority of the day considering the state of his phone. He had gotten texts and been able to read at least parts of them but answering was impossible. Still, it was nice to know that the others thought about him and wanted to let him know what they were doing. He had to remember to ask his dad about the chances of him getting a new phone.

He had mentioned that it was broken, just to make sure that his dad didn't try to call him only to find that Stiles didn't answer, but not asked how they were going to replace it. There had been many protests when Stiles had needed a new one after he had lost his last one in the pool trying to keep Derek alive, but that was before his dad found out about werewolves. Perhaps he would be more lenient now that he knew that it wasn't Stiles being clumsy – which had really been the only excuse he had been able to give last time.

Stiles suppressed another yawn and stopped momentarily to glance at the vending machines. Perhaps he should spoil him and his dad with something unhealthy? Stiles really wasn't that keen on being harsh about sugar intakes when they might get attacked by werewolves any given second.

Gary had apparently left sometime around dinner to get back out onto the streets and patrol and Stiles hadn't really found a reason to object. He and his dad did have the wolfsbane bullets if nothing else and the odds of another attack the night after the last one weren't that great. The werewolves had to be really stupid to do that.

"Hey, excuse me?"

Stiles jumped at being addressed all of a sudden, so far off in his thoughts that he hadn't even heard anyone approach. He blinked stupidly at the young woman and her kind, apologetic smile.

"Hi, sorry to startle you. I just wanted to ask if you know the way to the cafeteria?" she had pretty brown eyes and long light brown hair.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. You go down this corridor, then take a right followed by a left. You can follow the signs after that." He felt a little dazed and sluggish but the woman didn't seem to notice.

She had to be a couple of years older than him – probably around Derek's age – and Stiles couldn't help wondering who she was there to visit. She clearly wasn't a patient herself.

"Okay, thanks!" she smiled brightly, taking the first steps around Stiles to head for the cafeteria. There was something with her though – something Stiles couldn't quite place – and he found himself not wanting her to leave.

"You probably shouldn't though," he heard himself say while he gave her a casual little shrug and a smile. "The food really isn't that great."

She looked surprised for a moment before giving a soft laugh that did all kinds of things to the butterflies in Stiles' stomach. He wouldn't say that she was traditionally beautiful but she was definitely memorable with a cute round face and pale, freckled skin. He would have described her as sweet rather than beautiful – like the gorgeous girl next door rather than the popular beauty queen. There was almost something otherworldly about her.

A slight warning bell went off in Stiles' head but he couldn't quite understand why.

"So what do you suggest?" she asked, sounding amused and a little teasing. If Stiles hadn't known better he would have thought that she was flirting.

The bell chimed louder. There was something with the way she looked at him – the intensity in her gaze – that was slightly unsettling. She was smiling but also looked far too eager somehow. People usually weren't that keen on talking to Stiles.

"Well, there's the vending machines. And a diner not too far down the road. I'd go there instead if I were you," he replied, making sure to keep his voice casual while he gestured towards the outside world. While he hadn't wanted her to leave just a second ago he wasn't so sure about that anymore. A chill travelled down his spine. Something was off about her.

Which was probably why he instinctively recoiled when she took a step towards him, his elbow banging into the vending machine. He kept his gaze fixed at her, feeling his heart beginning to beat faster when the friendly smile fell from her lips. A moment later it came back but with a much more sinister touch.

"Damn. I almost thought I had you," she said with a displeased little huff.

"Sorry, but you'll have to at least buy me dinner first," he replied without really consulting his brain on the matter. She laughed.

"That can be arranged, I'm sure."

"Thanks but no thanks," he replied with a tight, nervous smile. She was one of them. She had to be a werewolf. He was completely brought out of his loop because she didn't look like any werewolf he had ever seen. She looked _kind_ and _normal_. "I already ate."

He didn't know how she had gotten past both his pack and the hunters but she was one of them. She was from the other pack. Stiles didn't know what she wanted but there was a risk that he wouldn't make it out of the conversation alive. The gun was back with his dad and she really only had to reach out and tear his throat out for it to be over. He wouldn't have time to dodge or call for help.

"Well I haven't," she practically purred before taking a step closer and Stiles was pretty certain that she wasn't talking about eating people-food now.

The fact that her eyes began to glow bright red might have had something to do with that.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit_. It was the alpha. She was the alpha of the other pack and Stiles was alone with her in a corridor at the hospital with no gun or friendly werewolves in sight. He was so going to die this time. His heart was suddenly racing while his throat felt dry and useless.

Stiles inched backwards but he didn't get very far with the vending machine right behind his back. She seemed to enjoy that and she managed to be unnervingly intimidating even if she was a couple of inches shorter than him. And he knew for a fact that she was stronger.

"But, as fun as that might be, I actually had something else in mind," she continued casually.

Stiles licked his lips and forced his voice to remain steady.

"Oh? And what might that be?" In his experience it was best to keep the crazy werewolf alphas talking. They were usually too busy to kill him then.

"I'm here to give an ultimatum," she replied before stepping closer – far closer than Stiles was comfortable with. His entire body tensed but he couldn't back up further and she knew that. The smile on her face was horrifying. "We want this territory for ourselves so you and your furry little friends better surrender or we're going to kill you, one by one."

Stiles couldn't help snorting in disbelief.

"Really? You haven't managed yet." That might not have been the wisest thing to say considering his position and she reminded him of that by slamming her palm against his chest. She didn't put much strength behind it – his ribs would undoubtedly have cracked if she had – but it was enough to knock the wind out his lungs all the same.

He gasped for breath and she crowded closer, her voice just above a snarl.

"I could start with you," she hissed. "I could gut you right here and no one would stop me."

"Y-yeah, you could," he squeezed out despite his difficulties breathing, "but then who would deliver your message?"

Her expression changed from one of fury to something akin to pleasure.

"I think that your mangled body would be message enough."

Okay, time to change the subject. If Stiles could keep her talking then maybe Scott would have time to show up or his dad would start to miss him. Not that Stiles wanted to endanger either of them but he was quite afraid that she would kill him if someone didn't interrupt them soon.

"Why are you so keen on Beacon Hills? What's so special about it that you won't leave, even when you've lost two from your pack already?"

That apparently hit a nerve but she seemed to keep her cool this time. Her hand was still pressing against his chest in a much less friendly version of what Derek had done not too long ago.

"Finding a habitable territory not already claimed by another pack is harder than you think. So sometimes taking one by force is the only option you have," she replied, which was reasonable, but Stiles still saw flaws in her plan.

"But there are hunters living here – not just the ones that are coming after you," he pointed out, staring straight into her eyes despite the blatant challenge that would be. He was trembling and his heart was beating out a rapid tattoo against her palm but he wasn't going to cower.

"We can take them on," she shot back, sounding defiant of all things.

"Not if you keep killing people. There will be nowhere for you to hide if you don't stop drawing that kind of attention to yourself. The hunters will know and they'll come for you."

"Shut up! They won't catch us!" she snarled and for a moment Stiles actually felt a sliver of sympathy for her. He couldn't quite figure out why but if he were to guess it was probably because she reminded him a little of Derek in that moment – or what Derek could have become if he had been less morally sound. She didn't sound confident. She actually sounded a little lost. But that did not change the fact that she was threatening to kill Stiles and the rest of his pack.

"But why Beacon Hills?" he pressed, desperate to keep her talking and at least relatively calm.

She smiled, a wicked curl of her lips that made her look both pretty and terrifying at the same time.

"Because it's just too tempting – to watch you all run around like scared little bunny rabbits. You really are quite a pathetic bunch." She tilted her head to the side and stroked Stiles' chest in an awfully unsettling and scary manner. "Besides, the resident alpha isn't exactly impressive, is he?"

Stiles bit back his instant urge to jump to Derek's defense. It would have been a little hypocritical considering that he was one of those who criticized Derek the most, but she wasn't exactly being fair. Derek was trying but he hadn't been prepared for this and definitely didn't have natural skills to lead – but he was getting better. He wasn't going to tell her that though.

"So you want it because it's easy?"

"That and because we're tired of having these hunters at our heels. Fighting them here seems just about as effective as anywhere else. There are many civilians we can use as leverage..." She smiled sweetly at him and Stiles suppressed a shiver.

"It's not going to be easy," he warned her carefully but she just scoffed.

"Please. We've escaped them so far."

"Yeah, true, but now you're going to fight them. That's going to be different."

She pursed her lips and gave him an annoyed glare.

"Oh? Says the weak little human. Tell me, what do you really _do_? What role do _you_ fulfill? Mascot?" she mocked and Stiles knew better than to give his standard reply this time.

"I do a little bit of everything," he answered evasively.

"Do you now? Then perhaps I should get one of my own?" Something dangerous flashed in her eyes and Stiles froze even before she opened her mouth to continue: "I wonder what would happen if I bit you? Would you come over to my side? Or would you fight against it? It wouldn't do you any good of course because you would be mine, but you strike me as the stubborn type."

Stiles stared at her, unable to curb the panic that was beginning to rise within him. He didn't want to get bitten any more now than he had back with Peter. He was frankly terrified of being forced into becoming a werewolf and to end up under this alpha's command? No, he would rather get killed.

He swallowed harshly and tried to ignore how much he was shaking from fear.

"I would fight you every step of the way," he grit out because that was the truth. If she bit him he wouldn't go quietly.

To his surprise she didn't get angry – she actually laughed, delighted.

"Now, here's the thing, sweetie – that just makes it all the more tempting," she whispered as she leaned even closer. Stiles eyes widened when she gave him a smile that was all sharp teeth and impending doom.

Jesus _Christ_ this was it. His breath caught and he squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the look of triumph on her face.

A threatening growl suddenly echoed in the corridor and Stiles' eyes snapped open just as Scott's voice rang out.

"Get away from him." Scott usually didn't manage to sound very dangerous but even Stiles felt a little frightened by the vicious undertones in those simple words.

The alpha stopped but Stiles doubted that it was because she felt threatened. She did turn her head to regard Scott with a raised eyebrow though, looking decidedly unimpressed. Scott was standing further down the corridor, apparently newly arrived judging on his slightly elevated breathing. He must have picked up on something being wrong and ran the rest of the way to the hospital.

"And if I don't?" she asked with a bored tilt of her head.

"I'll make you." Not the most extravagant threat but Scott had always been more down to the point. Stiles swallowed and took a slow, trembling breath, terrified of moving too much and encouraging her somehow. She seemed to have forgotten about him though, her brown gaze fixed solely on Scott.

"You're just a pup," she sneered.

"I might be but there are security guards all around the hospital and I wouldn't risk it if I were you."

Stiles was actually impressed by Scott's composure. He could tell that Scott wanted nothing more than to lunge at the she-alpha and tear her away from Stiles. But he kept himself from it and tried to talk her down instead. Which was a very good idea considering that Stiles was at high risk of getting pulled into the mess if it came to a fight – and it was unlikely that he would survive that.

She snorted but pulled back even if her hand still pressed against Stiles' chest, a little heavier than earlier.

"I only came to deliver our ultimatum anyway."

"And that is?" Scott asked, voice tight. Stiles was completely fine with allowing Scott to do the talking this time. He was still far too up close and personal with a murderous alpha.

"Unless you and the hunters surrender we are going to take this territory and its betas by force and will start killing three innocents a day until you do." She smiled sweetly towards Stiles. "Starting with you."

Scott growled menacingly but didn't lunge. Stiles could only swallow and stare back into her burning, red eyes. There was no way the hunters would agree to that. They would rather take on the werewolves head on than surrender, even with Stiles as one of the bargaining chips. He couldn't blame them though even if a small part of him wanted to agree to her terms. He didn't want to die.

"Oh, and your alpha dies," she added.

On second thought, Stiles was fine with the hunters' approach. It was probably high time to get more offensive. He gritted his teeth and glared at her.

"That's never going to happen."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed by his feeble attempt at fierceness.

"Well, that remains to be seen. You have until the full moon to decide. If you haven't surrendered by then, we will come for you," she snarled at Stiles, eyes shining red. Stiles forced himself not to flinch and instead just stared back. He wasn't going to give in to his fear, not this time.

She gave a feral growl before taking a step back, but not without giving Stiles one last push. Scott got a condescending look before she tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"You can't win this," she taunted but since neither Stiles nor Scott made any attempt to reply she soon turned on her heel and walked away without any further words.

Scott didn't move until she had disappeared around the corner but when she finally did he was by Stiles' side in the blink of an eye.

"Shit! Stiles, are you okay?" Scott seemed to be unable to decide whether to be angry or worried but he did grab Stiles' upper arms, trying to keep him steady. Stiles nodded weakly and gratefully accepted the support. His knees were a little weak and he would have slumped against the vending machine without it.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm okay." He took a deep breath and looked up at Scott. "But we need to get the others. We need to warn them – and the hunters. Shit."

Stiles rubbed a shaking hand over his head. Things were just getting worse and worse. He just couldn't understand how they were supposed to get through this. There might only be nine of them left but the other werewolves were more experienced and didn't hesitate to kill people. They were rash and unpredictable and Stiles wasn't sure how much longer they could keep doing this. They tried to stop them but nothing seemed to work.

"We'll ask them to come here then."

"No." Stiles shook his head. "We go to your house. We need privacy. You call the others while I go tell my dad what's going on." Stiles turned to head off towards his dad's hospital room but stopped before he had really gotten anywhere and faced Scott again. "And we need to swing by the animal clinic on our way to your house."

It was time to tell the others about that little plan for the humans that Stiles had been mulling over the last couple of days. They might very well need it before this was over.

"What?" Scott frowned. "Deaton's not going to be there this late."

"No, I know. It's not Deaton I'm looking for." Stiles had already started backing away, eager to get moving. "Just trust me on this, Scott, okay? It's not going to take long."

Scott didn't even hesitate before he nodded and Stiles loved him so incredibly much for that.

"Go tell your dad, I'll make sure that the others meet us at my house."

"Great. Don't tell them what happened, by the way, just that it's urgent and they really, really need to come." Scott gave him a quizzical look and Stiles turned and called over his shoulder: "They're just going to assume the worst. It's better to be face to face when we tell them."

"Oh, alright."

Stiles didn't bother to answer and instead hurried towards his dad's room as quickly as his limp allowed. He wasn't even that bothered by the fact that he had been threatened both with death and becoming a werewolf because he had other things to do. People to protect.

Gary's warning rang out loud and clear in his head and Stiles knew that this was one of those times when keeping the pack united would be a matter of life and death. Now they finally knew what the other pack wanted and had been given an ultimatum.

The problem was that it was either Stiles' or Derek's life on the line and they couldn't be allowed to falter. Not now. The full moon was in three days so they still had time to go with the third option – find the damn bastards and get rid of them before they had time to wreck any more havoc.

Stiles was definitely aiming for the third option.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The alpha reveals herself! Aaaaaand things are getting stickier by the minute. DUN DUN DUUUUN!  
> Because I just can't help myself, you know? There has to be some suspence and tension!
> 
> And I happen to like Gary. I'm sorry, but I do. I know OC's in fanfics can be quite horrible but I'm enjoying his snarkyness. Assholes are awesome tools when you want to keep the story flowing.
> 
> And yeah, I might ship Mama McCall and Papa Stilinski. So sue me. Or, you know... not.  
> I'm going to leave it open for interpretation though since I don't really know how many of you other people do. So there's hints but I'm not saying either yes or no. Just maybe.
> 
> My beta, [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum), ships them like crazy though. Just FYI. She honestly ships them more than she ships Sterek xD  
> That's my wacky beta for you!


	13. Unanimity

 

* * *

 

Stiles' dad wasn't pleased when Stiles came to tell him the news about what had taken place mere corridors away. His dad seemed just about ready to get out of bed and track down the she-alpha as a matter of fact. It was only Stiles and Mrs. McCall's shared efforts that managed to keep him in his hospital bed. Stiles could tell that his dad didn't want him to go – not even to meet with Scott and the others which would be as safe as he could get really – but eventually allowed it. Probably because Mrs. McCall was there to place a calming hand on his arm and reassure him. She looked just as worried as Stiles' dad but seemed to accept that there wasn't much she could do to help.

Stiles grabbed a hoodie from his backpack and pulled it on, even if he knew that his shaking came from adrenaline and fear, not chill. It was still comforting and warm. Stiles gave both his dad and Mrs. McCall a quick hug before he left, making sure that his dad had the gun within easy reach – just in case – before limping off to meet with Scott.

"They'll be there," Scott reported once they found each other by the hospital exit and proceeded to the car. Stiles didn't bother replying with anything else than a nod, already running through what needed to be said and averted once they met with the others.

The drive was tense and even if Scott was obviously anxious he kept quiet, just like Stiles did. Stiles was busy trying to find every angle to what had just transpired, what was to come and what they could expect because he knew that there would be questions – a lot of them – and he wanted to be prepared.

He wasn't sure if he had ever been as motionless and silent during a car ride in his entire life.

They took care of the quick stop at the animal clinic in a rush, Scott standing there looking confused while Stiles limped back and forth searching through drawers and cabinets. Scott seemed just about ready to intervene when Stiles gave a triumphant exclamation after finding what he was looking for. He patted Scott's arm to make him head back to the car.

It was obvious that Scott wanted to ask about it but they were on a time schedule and that knowledge seemed to be enough to keep him blessedly silent. Stiles was grateful because it meant that they could head over to the McCall house as soon as possible.

Erica and Isaac were waiting on the porch together with Lydia, Danny and Jackson – the latter looking rather disgruntled – when Scott and Stiles arrived and Stiles had to admit that he was impressed by their response time. Sure, Lydia, Danny and Jackson had probably been at the same place when they got the call but all five of them must have dropped whatever they were doing in order to come so quickly. Perhaps that was why Jackson looked so cranky.

Stiles climbed out of the car just as Boyd came jogging down the street and Scott was already unlocking the doors for the others before Boyd had even reached the driveway. Stiles gave Boyd a nod as the taller teen joined him in climbing the stairs leading up to the porch even if Stiles did it at a much slower pace.

"What's going on?" Erica sounded worried and perhaps even a little afraid, meeting Stiles' gaze in some kind of attempt to coax him into talking. Stiles knew better than to do that on the porch though.

"I'll explain soon, when Derek gets here."

He gestured for the others to follow Scott into the house – which Lydia, Jackson and Danny did without hesitation – but Stiles reached out a hand to stop Isaac as he made an attempt to do the same. Isaac looked momentarily puzzled and the confusion didn't exactly fade when Stiles stepped in closer and hugged him without any kind of explanation.

Isaac tensed and it was a rather awkward hug altogether but Stiles had promised that he would hug both Isaac and Erica and intended to keep good on his word. Which was why he soon let go of Isaac – who looked wide eyed and completely baffled – and turned to Erica next. She was definitely softer and smelled nicer, not to mention that she actually returned the hug, but she seemed just about as confused by Stiles' sudden show of physical affection as Isaac was. Scott was lingering in the doorway looking like a dumb puppy with his head tilted to the side while Boyd had something akin to an amused smile on his face.

"Thanks. For the-... uh... cleaning," Stiles mumbled a little awkwardly as he pulled back from Erica's embrace, giving each of the two baby betas a sincere, grateful look. Erica's smile was radiant and Isaac seemed to relax, even if he was still looking a little off kilter.

"Sure. Don't worry about it," Isaac replied with a slightly lopsided smile and a half-shrug, which earned him a quick pat on the arm. Stiles just couldn't help it.

He started shooing the werewolves into the house just as Derek's black Camaro pulled up next to the battered McCall family car. Stiles hesitated on the threshold and nodded for Scott to go inside with the rest of the pack before turning to meet their alpha. The least he could do was to give Derek a heads up about what was to come. Quite a lot of this rested on Derek and his ability to keep the pack in line after all, so it was better if he was prepared for the onslaught of questions and panic that would undoubtedly be just a couple of minutes away.

Scott disappeared into the house with a thoughtful look on his face but Stiles pretended that he hadn't seen it. Instead he took a limping step towards the stairs and met Derek's quizzical gaze when the alpha reached the house. Stiles took a deep breath.

"It's bad," he said in a low voice, knowing that the werewolves within the house would hear him if they tried but they were hopefully too busy with each other. Derek frowned and stepped up onto porch, coming to a halt next to Stiles.

"How bad?" the alpha asked, looking rather stern.

"Really, really bad." Stiles swallowed before running his tongue over his bottom lip, nervously rubbing his neck.

Derek was standing a little closer than usual but Stiles wasn't going to complain. He knew that he should take a step back because this wasn't helping matters but he couldn't deny that he gravitated towards Derek. He really shouldn't but he did. Especially considering the fact that Derek was sans leather jacket and that t-shirt he was wearing was definitely tight enough to suggest that some closer proximity and possible touching would be a great idea. Damnit. Stiles needed to focus.

Stiles steeled himself and looked into Derek's eyes, trying to choose his words as carefully as possible.

"They've given their demands." When Derek gave no indication that he planned to interrupt Stiles went on: "Either we surrender and allow them to take the betas and the territory..." Stiles trailed off, staring out into space just above Derek's left shoulder.

"Or else?" Derek's voice was lower than usual and Stiles couldn't help that his gaze snapped back to Derek's face while one of those swooping flutters made itself known. It was probably to keep the others from hearing but it just felt incredibly intimate to have Derek speak to him in that tone of voice. And that was really the last thing Stiles should be thinking about.

"It's not a very good deal. They'll probably kill the hunters and anyone who disagrees with them." Stiles hesitated and fought an urge to grab a hold of Derek's arm or hand or any part of him. Stiles felt a worrying fear of losing Derek somehow. "And you have to die."

Derek took those words with surprising ease, which was both frustrating and heartbreaking. No one should accept their possible impending death that easily. Derek looked just about ready to shrug nonchalantly.

"Or else?" Derek repeated, strangely patient. Stiles sighed and scratched his neck.

"Or else they'll start killing three innocents a day." Stiles didn't intend to pause there, he just couldn't quite talk around the lump in his throat. He didn't want innocents to die. He really didn't. But he refused to have Derek killed and doom the rest of the pack to a life under the other alpha. But there was also that other small detail that he hadn't managed to squeeze out just yet. He would have to soon though.

"How long do we have?"

Stiles immediately jumped on the opportunity to postpone the inevitable, just for a little while longer.

"Until the full moon. Meaning three days."

"Then we still have time to find them. We need-" Derek made to move towards the door but Stiles' hand shot out and grabbed his arm.

Stiles was a little surprised to find that not only did Derek stop but he fell silent too. But perhaps the alpha was just shocked to find that Stiles dared to touch him. Even if Stiles seemed to have been doing that far more frequently during the last couple of days.

"Derek, I'm first in line. The alpha told me that unless we surrender they will come for _me_ specifically on the night of the full moon," Stiles blurted out, his fingers gripping Derek's arm a little tighter than necessary. Derek seemed to freeze.

Stiles took a deep, trembling breath, trying to ignore how he was severely distracted by the feel of Derek's skin under his palm. Why couldn't Derek have worn his leather jacket like usual? Why did it have to be something without sleeves so that when Stiles grabbed his arm it was his actual _arm_ he touched?

Focus. That was the key. Stiles forced himself to go on.

"I don't know if it's to kill me or bite me but I don't want either of those two options to happen."

Derek was silent and seemed to stare at nothing in particular for a moment or two before he gritted his teeth and raised his hand as if to pry Stiles' fingers away. Stiles could see that Derek distanced himself for some reason, his expression closed off and eyes dark and clouded. Something was wrong. Stiles had a very scary feeling that Derek was jumping to conclusions and making his own decisions in his head and Stiles was incredibly afraid of what they would entail. He was frankly terrified of what Derek might be thinking in that moment. Because Stiles wasn't going to give up. He wasn't going to sell Derek out just to save his own skin. And he wasn't going to let Derek believe that he would.

Stiles grabbed Derek's hand with his free one, just as the alpha's fingers closed around Stiles' to loosen his grip. He wasn't going to let go. Not yet. Derek frowned and looked into Stiles eyes, both annoyed and defensive. Stiles just squeezed tighter, Derek's skin warm against his own.

"But they're going to do that either way," Stiles bit out, keeping his voice low and determined. "She's not going to stop even if we do surrender and you die. She made no promises to leave me alone if we agreed to their terms and I don't trust her. We win nothing by surrendering. She'll just kill me anyway. Or bite me. I don't want to surrender."

Derek's tense fingers relaxed under Stiles' grip but neither of them pulled back.

"So what do you suggest?" Derek's voice was void of emotions but Stiles could tell that a lot was going on behind all those carefully constructed walls of faked indifference.

"We find them first." Stiles stared into Derek's hazel eyes, trying to convey his conviction through look and voice alone. "I know why they did this and I know how to battle it. We can do this, Derek, but you have to work with me. I'll give this everything I have but you have to let me." Stiles licked his lips, Derek's gaze snapping downwards for the briefest of seconds. "You have to trust me."

Derek tensed immediately, no doubt having very bad associations with that word. Stiles knew that, which was why he was so nervous and his heart was beating so fast – or at least that was what he told himself. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was standing incredibly close to Derek on a dark porch, practically holding hands. Nope.

Stiles could see the moment Derek began inching backwards, pulling back not only physically but emotionally as well. Derek still wasn't prepared to trust Stiles and while that hurt Stiles couldn't blame him either. He would also have been pretty guarded if he had lived the life Derek had lived. But that didn't mean that he was giving up.

Stiles let go of Derek's hand and before he had time to regret it raised it to the side of Derek's head instead, his fingertips slipping just behind the alpha's neck, forcibly keeping him still.

"Derek, look at me!" Derek's stubble felt prickly and rough against his thumb but Stiles would have lied if he had said that he didn't enjoy it to a rather huge degree. "I know you don't like it but there's only one option here unless we want to die. Because it's not just you and it's not just me. It's the entire pack and everyone living here in Beacon Hills. You know that. And I don't want more people to die."

Stiles was holding his breath, staring into Derek's unreadable eyes, not knowing what to do or expect from the alpha. Derek might very well lash out and kill him for touching him. Stiles' heart was beating loudly in his chest and his entire nervous system seemed to have gone haywire, not knowing whether to panic or rejoice. He was touching Derek. In a rather intimate manner. He was so not good at keeping boundaries and backing off as he had planned.

He almost flinched when Derek finally moved even if he did it so slowly that Stiles shouldn't have been surprised. Derek calmly released his grip around Stiles' hand that was still clutching his arm rather pathetically and went for the other instead. But he didn't push it away like Stiles thought that he would. He took it. To be able to lower it from his face, yes, but Derek didn't let go either. He kept it. He kept holding Stiles' hand in his. Stiles' fingers twitched and he still wasn't sure if he was breathing correctly.

"The others are waiting," Derek said and for a brief second Stiles felt his heart sink.

That was until he noticed that Derek's shoulders weren't stiff with discomfort or anger. He seemed a little tense, yes, but his expression was relaxed and he didn't look defensive or as if he was planning to push Stiles away. He didn't say it in words but it would probably have felt too real for both of them if he had. Stiles knew that it wasn't unconditional and that Derek had to have his doubts but he seemed willing to at least give it a try. He would try to trust Stiles.

Stiles sucked in a breath of relief and couldn't help the wide, dorky grin that spread on his lips, which made Derek roll his eyes as if to say that he was regretting the decision already. Stiles was going to make sure that he didn't though. This was _huge_. And Stiles was going to make sure to earn every bit of the trust that Derek was willing to give him.

Derek's grip around Stiles' hand tightened – which was a sudden reminder of the fact that, yes, he was still holding it in fact – before the alpha turned towards the driveway, just in time to see a car Stiles recognized pull up on the curb. Stiles mourned when he had to both let go of Derek's arm and felt his fingers slip from the alpha's grip, but it wasn't hurried at least. It lingered longer than Stiles thought possible, actually, since Derek had to be aware of it too. There was no way he couldn't be.

Stiles swallowed and hid his hands in the pockets of his hoodie as soon as it would seem natural for him to do so, trying to deny that his skin tingled. All this touching was making it really difficult for him to keep his hands to himself.

Since he had recognized the car Stiles wasn't surprised to see Allison climb out of it but he was surprised by Derek, who stepped to the side, almost shielding Stiles entirely from Allison's view. Stiles wanted to burst out laughing at first because that was just plain ridiculous but then he realized that it was an instinctive reaction.

The fact that Allison hated Derek wasn't exactly a secret and she was capable of some pretty serious damage. Derek saw her as a threat. Perhaps not one he would attack but a threat none the less and his first instinct was to shield Stiles from her. Never mind that she would never hurt Stiles and that she probably came on peaceful terms. Derek's first thought – subconscious as it might be – was to protect Stiles. He had no idea how to deal with this information but the frankly alarming skip in Stiles' heartbeat was entirely justifiable in his opinion.

Derek seemed to glance back at him – as if the alpha was keeping track of Stiles' heartbeats now and reacted even to the slightest alarming change – but he said nothing on the matter. Allison walked towards them with her head held high but with her hands in clear view and a somewhat cautious pace. She knew better than to expect to be accepted with open arms.

"Scott told me about what happened," she explained without prompting, looking at both Derek and Stiles, "and I thought that it would be more effective if I came right away instead of having Stiles relay whatever you discuss and decide."

Stiles wasn't exactly surprised to hear that Scott had somehow found the time to call Allison and in this case it was probably for the best. She had a point with it being more efficient but Stiles could see clear as day that Derek wanted to send he off on accounts of her being a hunter and not a part of the pack. Yet at least. If Scott and Allison managed to mend their relationship you couldn't be too sure and Stiles wasn't going to risk having Derek scare her off. Not when he knew that she genuinely regretted what she had done and just wanted them all to come out of this alive. They could fix this.

So before Derek had time to give a scathing reply Stiles took a step closer, partly hidden behind Derek as he was, and placed a light hand on Derek's back. Just a small pressure to catch the alpha's attention. Derek tensed momentarily, clearly not used to having people in his personal space like that when he wasn't the one instigating it or had full control over it, but he didn't pull away.

"It's a good idea," Stiles whispered quietly enough for only Derek to hear. "She can offer tactical advice and Scott will appreciate it if you let her stay. And she knows how to keep secrets. She won't tell the other hunters."

Stiles felt a little like the tiny angel perching on Derek's shoulder when he whispered advice like that but what else could he do? He knew that Derek would make a bad decision without it and he couldn't exactly order him to obey like he did with Scott.

Allison waited patiently while Derek seemed to consider his decision and Stiles fought the urge to draw random patterns against Derek's back. He could almost feel the muscles and skin underneath the simple t-shirt and by God it made Stiles' fingers itch. Derek was warm and so incredibly distracting and Stiles had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself in the present.

Allison. Bad alphas threatening to kill them. Important meeting soon to commence. That was what was important. Derek needed to make a decision whether Allison was allowed to stay or not. It was clear that Allison still wasn't fine with being in Derek's presence – just as Derek wasn't fine with being in hers because he knew what she was capable of – but both of them would perhaps be mature enough to put that aside.

"Fine," Derek grumbled, not too pleased but at least he agreed.

Derek headed for the door without a second glance but Stiles didn't take that all too hard. He knew that Derek's decision had been based more on Stiles' assurance than anything else. Derek at least trusted Stiles this much. And that was a start.

Allison seemed to relax a fraction before walking up the stairs onto the porch, giving Stiles a meaningful look before nodding subtly towards Derek's back, as if to ask what all that had been about. Stiles had hoped that she wouldn't notice that he had been the one to influence Derek's decision but of course something like that wouldn't pass her by. But there was also another glint in her eye – one that seemed to ask why they had been standing so close and what was really going on. Stiles wasn't comfortable with answering that so he just shrugged and acted as if it was completely natural.

Which, on second thought, proved to be even worse if Allison's widened eyes and look of surprise was anything to go by. Great. Now she thought that fishy things were going on between Stiles and Derek too. Stiles wanted to facepalm. He just couldn't catch a break. It wasn't even within the realms of possibility here so why did people keep on assuming that there was something between them? Stiles pursed his lips, let out a sigh and followed Derek into the house.

Allison would just have to believe whatever she wanted to believe. He doubted that she would ask him outright about it anyway.

Scott was waiting by the door with this ridiculous puppy dog look on his face and Stiles wasn't even surprised. Scott must have heard Allison coming a mile away but been wise enough to let Derek make the decision on whether she would get to stay or not. Stiles was pretty certain that Scott would have stepped out and objected if Derek had in fact refused but now he didn't have to.

Derek brushed past Scott without acknowledging the dorky look on his face and Stiles couldn't help snorting on a laugh when Scott and Allison gave each other nearly identical shy smiles. They were so pathetically in love. Scott hesitated for a moment or two before carefully reaching out for Allison's hand and by the time she accepted it Stiles was just about ready to puke from the cuteness of it all.

It turned out to be a good thing that Scott offered Allison that small amount of support though because when they joined the others in the living room the baby betas weren't all too happy to see her. Not that they seemed hostile or anything but Erica gave Allison sharp, wary looks and even Isaac and Boyd seemed unusually suspicious and cautious. But that was probably expected considering what she had put all three of them through.

Lydia seemed happy though and patted the empty seat beside her with a wide smile. Allison hesitated for a moment before raising her chin just a little before walking over and accepting the offered seat. The fact that Scott followed and ended up sitting on the armrest of the couch probably helped. Their fingers were still clutching each other's tightly.

Stiles looked over the people in the room, seated in various arrangements, all save for Derek – who seemed to favor standing whenever given the option – and himself. He gave Derek a quick look and the subtle nod the alpha gave him was so small that it might not have been a nod at all. Jackson seemed to realize that things were finally moving towards an explanation and broke the rather suffocating silence that lay over the room.

"So why are we here?" He sounded impatient and snarky as usual but all of them seemed to be so used to it by then that they barely reacted. It was just Jackson's standard setting or something.

"Because the other alpha tried to eat me," Stiles replied without as much as a flinch, not the least bit surprised by the looks of shock and alarm that caused amongst those not already informed about the matter. Even Jackson tensed and looked a little uncomfortable.

"What?" Lydia asked, voice sharp and demanding but laced with a tinge of worry that Stiles found rather flattering.

Stiles held out his hands to silence whatever questions were about to be asked.

"Just let me explain first, questions later," he promised and when there came no objections from anyone in the room he did just that, sparing no details.

For his own sake Stiles chose to look only at Scott and Derek as he talked because they already knew enough about it not to give any overly dramatic reactions. It made Stiles feel calmer.

A heavy silence fell in the room when he was done and Stiles pushed his hands back into the pockets of his hoodie to keep them from fidgeting.

"So what do we do?" Erica asked, voice somehow weaker and smaller than usual.

"We go with the third option," Derek declared as he took a step forward, drawing all eyes to him. "We find them and get rid of them. We still have three days."

"Why would they even do that?" Scott asked with a frown. "Don't they understand that if they give us that kind of time we might actually be able to stop them?"

"Because they hope that it will be enough time to wear us all down, not inspire us to build up a better resistance," Stiles replied calmly.

"Wear us down how?" Jackson asked, taking a much more active role than Stiles would have anticipated. But perhaps Jackson was beginning to realize that there were benefits to being a team player. Or maybe he just wanted to get things over with.

Jackson had an arm thrown over the back of the couch and now it slowly slipped down to loop around Lydia's shoulders. For some reason Stiles didn't feel upset by it.

"They want us to fight amongst ourselves," he answered. "They gave the demands in such a way that it's obvious that they want us to argue about it _and_ disagree with the hunters. Because the hunters will never surrender. They won't negotiate."

The last couple of words were directed towards Allison, who shook her head.

"No, they won't," she replied without hesitation. Stiles nodded as if to confirm his own suspicion.

"Which is why all the threats were directed towards us. At first glance it seems as if we have the most to lose – either I die or Derek dies – but the hunters they only have to surrender. The other pack made sure that _we_ are the ones emotionally involved in this. Because they want us to argue. They want to break us up and want us to fight with the hunters when they won't agree to surrender. By giving us a couple of days they probably hope that we will feel the building pressure, get nervous and eventually surrender."

"But that means sacrificing Derek," Boyd pointed out with his calm, deep voice.

"Indeed it does but they probably think that we'll be scared enough to do that anyway. If they know that we're a united pack then they also know that we're a rather new one – one that shouldn't be that stable yet. But the thing is that they'll probably kill all the hunters and all us humans no matter if we surrender or not. We don't gain much by it."

Jackson snorted which earned him an elbow in the ribs from Lydia.

"So we won't surrender?" Isaac asked, following the example of everyone else and completely ignoring whatever contribution Jackson might have given at that point.

"Nope," Stiles replied, making sure that the p popped to an almost excessive degree. He spread his arms wide and gave the pack a smile even if he felt quite worried. It was only natural though considering that he was setting himself up to be killed if they failed. "Because, let's face it – I'm the one who has the most to lose on this. But I'm telling you not to. In fact, I _forbid_ you to surrender. Because I trust that we can do this. I trust you. All of you."

To everyone's surprise Derek was the next one to speak up.

"And it has to be a unanimous decision. The other pack wants us to split up. They want you to be afraid enough to give in and not fight back. That's what this is all about. It's just a scare tactic. Nothing has changed just because they gave us an ultimatum. They will still kill innocents and forcibly recruit each beta they can find." Stiles was actually quite impressed by Derek's initiative. Their alpha never quite seemed to grasp the finer arts of leadership but he wasn't doing too bad of a job now. Not to mention that he had never heard Derek say so much at once. "So we continue as usual. We track them in the woods and keep them off the streets. We find them before the three days are up. But we all have to agree that this is the direction we're taking. And once we have we can't hesitate or back down."

It was obvious that Derek didn't like to even suggest that he didn't have full control over the situation but at least he made an effort. And that was probably what would win most of the pack over in the end. They were so used to Derek pushing and demanding things that actually giving them their own choice might make them more determined to stick with whatever decision was made.

"It's all-in or not at all," Stiles clarified, perhaps a little unnecessarily.

"Well, I'm in," Scott replied without a moment of hesitation. Stiles gave Scott a grateful, reassuring smile and got one in return. They could do this. Stiles was sure of it.

The silence that followed was a short one, as if Scott's determination and swift decision was all the rest of them needed. A chorus of voices rang out in the room – none of them saying no. Not even Jackson. Stiles couldn't help grinning. He was so darn proud. They were going to fight and they were going to win this.

Their pack was the best one ever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... because lots of touching makes us all happy, right?
> 
> This and the next chapter is a bit plotty but the last one will be pure cuteness. And some Peter. Who isn't cute at all but lovely all the same. 
> 
> WE'RE SOON DONE WITH THE SECOND PART GUYS! And the third will be awesome! (or so I hope)  
> Lots of action and finally - FINALLY - that pre-slash tag will change into something else ;) Just hang in there!
> 
> My beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) was flailing all over the place when reading this. She is such a fangirl without really being a fangirl and seems to be getting quite into this thing by now xD


	14. Wolf Whistle

 

* * *

 

With the decision not to surrender having been made Stiles deemed that it was time to move things along. A lot needed to be done and they didn't have all that much time to do it on. Lydia seemed to be of the same conviction.

"So what are our actual plans?" she asked, leaning lightly against Jackson.

"Glad that you asked. I have some news concerning that." Stiles gave Derek a questioning look, asking for permission out of politeness sake rather than anything else. Stiles would keep talking anyway but Derek didn't seem inclined to stop him considering the short nod he received in reply. "I've talked to Deaton and Ms. Morrell – don't ask, just accept the fact that she's involved and kickass – and we've figured out a way to block off some parts of the city. I- uh... was supposed to have looked into that but got a bit derailed..."

He had completely forgotten that he had promised Deaton to look into the maps over the reserve and hiking trails. Luckily enough it wasn't too late.

"What's it about?" Allison asked and Stiles got the distinct feeling that she was desperate for something productive to do. Mr. Argent had seemed rather firm on him and Allison only giving tactical advice and while Stiles understood his reasoning it was obvious that Allison felt helpless and weak. And this was actually something she would be able to help with.

"A quicksilver barrier. I don't know much about it but essentially it's a barrier that will keep werewolves from crossing. Which is also why I'm assuming that humans will have to be the ones to set it up." Allison nodded to show that she was listening while Stiles scratched his chin. "Perhaps that's a task we should let you hunters handle. It's possible to infuse already existing buildings and structures with it so I was thinking fences."

"That would only slow them down at best," Lydia pointed out but her voice was completely void of any kind of scorn or condescension. Stiles was almost surprised.

"But that's better than nothing," Scott injected while squeezing Allison's hand, ever so subtly.

"Deaton is getting the ingredients but someone still has to set it up. You think the hunters will know how to?" Stiles asked Allison, who nodded in confirmation.

"I'm pretty sure we can take care of that."

"Good. Just go to him tomorrow and tell him that I sent you. And since you hunters are the ones patrolling the border I trust you to be able to pick the most strategic points where to put the barriers." Stiles snapped his fingers as another thought occurred to him. "Oh! Danny, you help too. Let them know about the cameras and surveillance. If we do this thoroughly we might be able to block them out completely or at least see them coming."

Danny nodded to show that he had understood his instructions and gave Allison a quick look as if to confirm their shared task. Stiles was on a roll.

"But don't forget to report back to us and explain where you put the barriers," Derek said, looking directly at Allison for the first time Stiles could remember. He hadn't really thought about it but Derek always seemed to glance past or just not look at her at all. Stiles wasn't quite sure why that was because the fact that Derek bit her mom didn't seem like something that Derek would react that obviously to. But there was certainly something.

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, pushing those thoughts aside for the time being, "we don't want to slow our own people down."

"I'll let you know." Allison sounded determined and firm and for a moment Stiles really understood what Scott saw in her. She was beautiful, fierce and a force to be reckoned with. Then he realized what she had said.

"Wait, no, my phone's broken. Call Scott instead."

She didn't seem surprised considering that he had already sent her a text from a number she mustn't have recognized but at least she didn't ask who that phone had to have belonged to. She probably knew anyway considering how she glanced towards Derek. And Stiles was so not going to acknowledge that.

"Okay, I'll do that," was all she said. Stiles was grateful.

"We'll continue searching," Derek picked up, speaking mainly to the werewolves. "There's not much ground left to cover."

"And what if we can't find them?" Isaac asked, looking troubled with his arms crossed and slouched posture. Stiles could understand that. It was difficult to remain positive when nothing seemed to help.

"We will," Derek replied without hesitation. He sounded so certain and determined – as if it wasn't even an option to fail – and Stiles had to bite the inside of his cheek not to blurt out a thank you. Because he was the one who would get in trouble if they didn't manage to find them. He was the one the werewolves would be coming for. The brief yet still noticeable glance Derek sent his way was enough to make Stiles' breath catch. Derek knew that too and _that_ was what Derek wanted to stop.

Derek must have been lying when he pretended not to care about Stiles. He must have. There was no other explanation for the lack of reprimands whenever they happened to touch – which was more and more often for some reason – and the way Derek actually listened when Stiles talked, or the fact that the alpha was making serious and sometimes subconscious effort to keep Stiles safe. It must just have been Derek's pride and mood getting in the way. That still didn't explain exactly what it all was about but Derek had lied. He did care – and he cared a lot.

Stiles suppressed his urge to confront Derek about it and instead cleared his throat.

"I also have something for us humans," Stiles said, digging through his pocket until he found the three small whistles he had kindly borrowed from Deaton. He threw one to Lydia – which Jackson caught because she would probably be caught dead before doing that – and one to Danny. Stiles had to admit that he was quite impressed by Danny who managed to catch it without any kind of trouble even if he had one of his arms in a cast. Scott looked momentarily confused when Allison didn't get anything but Stiles had decided that it was better if she wasn't included in this, since it related to the pack in a way that he knew was too early to suggest she be involved in. Derek didn't trust her enough yet.

"And these are?" Danny asked with a raised eyebrow while he inspected the small silver whistle.

"Dog whistles," Stiles replied and had to fight real hard not to grin like an idiot. Derek's disapproving frown was hilarious.

"A dog joke. Very classy, Stiles," Lydia quipped and Stiles felt a flash of irritation.

"If you let me explain I'm sure you'll think differently," he snapped, surprising not only himself but the rest of the room as well. He never raised his voice when speaking to Lydia, no matter how mean she was. She was his sun and goddess. But Stiles was beginning to feel that he was able to distance himself from that somewhat. Perhaps he was getting over her, slowly but surely?

Lydia looked shocked for a brief second before she pressed her lips together and nodded.

"Go on." Since it came from Derek it was probably an order but it sounded softer than that. Stiles smiled at their alpha before licking his lips and taking a deep breath.

"It's not a joke – it's a way for us humans to call for werewolf help if we need it. A distress signal. My phone is broken at the moment so I won't be able to contact you if anything happens and sometimes you don't have time to call for help anyway. So this is a neat solution. Keep it with you and if you need help you blow it." Stiles eyed his pack, seeing acceptance in most of them even if Derek still looked a little negative. But that was probably normal. "You wolves should be able to hear it easily."

Lydia took the small silver tube from Jackson and inspected it with indifference and nonchalance but Stiles knew that she had to understand the benefits.

"And how are we supposed to know that it's not just someone training their dog?" Erica asked, with good reason. Stiles held up the small whistle.

"Because when used for obedience training you only ever use relatively short whistles. We would be blowing them for as long as we possibly could. Besides, these whistles are of the kind where you can manually change the frequency so we could just decide on one to make it easier."

"Or three different ones – one for each of us," Lydia said, for once making it sound like a suggestion and not an order. Stiles nodded.

"That too. Then you would be able to know which one of us needs help so if we're not able to blow the whistle again you can make educated guesses on where we might be based on that."

"And we won't be drawing unnecessary attention to ourselves?" Danny asked, but he seemed to have accepted the whistle as a good back up already.

"Probably, but since this is in case of a werewolf attack they'll already have found you. It's not going to make a difference if you blow a whistle or not. It might even stun them for a moment because the sound is supposedly quite distracting."

Stiles did not look at Derek when he said that but he could still feel Derek glaring at him. Derek clearly had something against dog whistles, probably related to Stiles' glee when he had found out that it actually worked on werewolves as well as dogs back when Derek had been shot by the hunters.

"So... what do you think?" Stiles spread his arms wide, as if to suggest it to the room, but it was obviously Derek he had to win over. And their alpha looked a little cranky.

But that was apparently not enough to make Derek disregard a good plan when he saw one because it didn't take long before he nodded and gestured vaguely towards the three humans.

"Pick a frequency each and let us listen to them a couple of times. Short whistles only so that no one happen to pick up on them by accident and suspect something." Derek's face was blank and impassive as he so often seemed to favor. "We'll keep this a secret for now."

There were no complaints and Stiles couldn't help that he beamed a little as he set about customizing his whistle. He was definitely being useful now. Not only had he organized the whole barrier arrangement with Deaton and the hunters but he had also given the humans another way to hopefully avoid getting hurt. Stiles felt awesome.

That only increased when he, Lydia and Danny took turns blowing their whistles to allow the werewolves to both memorize and grow used to them. Derek was the only one who didn't cringe at some point and Stiles was tempted to blow his harder just to see if it would cause a reaction. He didn't though, if only because he didn't want to piss Derek off and ruin the effort he had put into the whole arrangement by having the alpha scrap the idea.

There was no real way to tell if the werewolves had time to learn the separate frequencies but they would still know that one long whistle was a human in distress. That was good enough and Stiles felt fairly proud either way. The rest of the pack seemed pretty positive too.

"You don't have any presents for us?" Erica teased with a gorgeous smile. Stiles scoffed.

"Yeah right," Stiles replied while looping the chain attached to the dog whistle around his neck. "I wouldn't want to spoil you puppies."

"But favoritism is alright?" Isaac asked with an amused raised eyebrow.

"What? I am not favoring anyone!" Stiles defended as he dropped the whistle inside the collar of his t-shirt, to keep it hidden from view underneath his clothes. The metal felt cold against his skin but it wasn't entirely uncomfortable.

"You totally are," Erica replied with an almost playful pout.

"Am not!"

"And you do spoil them." Derek sounded uninterested and bored but there was a teasing glint in his eyes and Stiles didn't know whether to feel offended or happy. It ended up being somewhere in between.

"What? You too? Is everyone ganging up on me now?" Stiles asked snippily before crossing his arms over his chest. "Besides, spoiling them a little doesn't hurt."

"Yes, it does," Derek shot back.

"Not at all," Stiles persisted. Derek seemed prepared to inflict bodily harm and would probably have done so already if he and Stiles hadn't been on two separate ends of the room. Stiles counted that as a win for him.

"Just shut up, Stiles."

That was such a standard reply for Derek that Stiles was almost disappointed. He knew that Derek could do better. He opened his mouth to say as much but to his surprise Erica jumped in between.

"My God! Mom, Dad, stop fighting, okay?"

Well, that was awkward. The silence that fell over the room was so thick that it was almost comical. No one seemed to know how to react to Erica's outburst which had seemed entirely instinctual, not planned – which in itself was a pretty scary thought. Was that really how they appeared? Erica looked rather embarrassed to have said it now that everyone just stared and refused to reply somehow.

But it didn't take long before Stiles recovered from his shock and realized the implication of her words.

"Wait. Hang on. Does that make me the mom?" he asked out loud, pointing stupidly at himself. "I'm not the mom! Derek can be the mom!"

The fact that Derek looked insulted at the suggestion wasn't a shock but the fact that he didn't get angry was. Stiles figured that he would. Derek always tried to distance himself from them and to be compared to a mother and father – with Stiles as the other part of the duo no less – would usually have pissed him off, Stiles was sure of that. And while Derek looked disapproving it didn't seem as harsh as it could have.

"You're all idiots," Derek declared which, well, was better than getting angry and beating them at least.

"I think that's a no," Scott stage whispered unhelpfully and Stiles gave him a dry look.

"Thank you, Scott, for your ever so insightful contributions."

Scott just grinned wickedly and Stiles slapped him over the head as a reward. Stupid best friend.

"If you are done playing happy family I'm leaving," Jackson declared and Stiles bit back his urge to point out that they were clearly not a very happy family. He kept his mouth shut though and only watched as Derek gave a dismissive wave, as if agreeing to let Jackson leave.

"Go home, get some sleep. We start early in the morning," was all Derek said.

Stiles hadn't even realized that Jackson must have been waiting for that sign of permission before leaving and judging on Jackson expression neither had he. Jackson looked both confused and almost afraid for a brief moment, before Lydia's fingers entwined with his and he managed to cover it up. Jackson seemed to take a deep breath before getting to his feet, carefully helping Lydia do the same.

Stiles gave Derek a questioning look but the alpha didn't seem to find anything strange in Jackson's behavior. Which had to mean that it had been a reflex that could overpower Jackson's usual douchebag routine. The werewolves were beginning to follow Derek not only out of choice but out of instinct. They were accepting the chain of command. Stiles was pretty certain that was a good sign – a sign of them coming together as a pack. Now they just had to make sure that Derek didn't abuse the influence he had over the betas but Stiles suspected that it wouldn't be a problem. Not with Scott and Stiles there to prevent it.

Danny chose to leave with Jackson and Lydia – the latter giving Stiles a smile that was probably as close to an apology for her behavior earlier as he would ever get with Lydia – and Allison wasn't far behind. Scott followed her to the door, no doubt to coo sweet nothings at each other while still pretending that they weren't dying to get back together. If it wasn't for the fact that Stiles still thought that Allison needed a little more time he would have pushed them together already. But grief couldn't be hurried, nor could redemption, so he let them take it at their own pace.

Isaac and Erica seemed to linger – and by extension Boyd because Erica really had developed a habit of leaning against him as soon as she could and he didn't seem inclined to push her away – while Derek made to leave. He didn't seem to be in a hurry though so perhaps he hoped not to run into Scott and Allison being sweet over by the door if he took his time.

Derek did stop for more than a couple of moments when he reached Stiles though, as if he was debating whether to say something or not. Stiles didn't really know what to expect and the sheer amount of nerves he felt in that moment kept him from asking if the alpha had anything on his mind. Stiles wasn't sure if it was just him feeling it but there was some kind of tension there, between them. He was pretty certain that Derek wasn't angry but it felt heavy and a little scary all the same. Like something was supposed to happen or at least be voiced.

But Derek didn't say anything. He just kept staring into Stiles' eyes a little longer than was entirely appropriate before he nodded and walked towards the door without a word. Stiles released a breath he didn't even know he was holding and couldn't help following the alpha with his gaze until Derek disappeared from view.

Stiles felt his shoulders slump, just a little, and when he turned back to the three betas still in Scott's living room all of them were looking at him with a mixture of amusement, disbelief and teasing. Stiles refused to admit that he blushed at the scrutinizing looks and pointed threateningly at them.

"Not a word."

He wasn't entirely sure what he was forbidding them to talk about but it was definitely something he didn't want them to vocalize. That much he knew. It was getting more and more difficult to keep denying things and Derek wasn't making anything easier with all the mixed signals and conflicting behavior. Stiles didn't know what to think anymore. Whenever he came to a conclusion Derek did something that threw it right out the window and Stiles had no idea if he was reading too much into things or not. It had seemed like it just hours ago but now Stiles wasn't sure anymore. Everything was just so confusing and for once Stiles found it best to let it lie. At least for now.

Stiles threw himself down on the recently vacated couch and sighed heavily. He was exhausted and his foot was throbbing and he was worried about what would happen from now on. He didn't want to die – understandably enough – but he didn't want to surrender either. And while he was confident that everyone would do their best to find the other pack before the full moon Stiles just wasn't certain if that would be good enough. They might just move on to another location if they were found and then they had to start all over again with their search.

Stiles couldn't understand how the werewolves managed to live out there in the woods because they still needed food and such – unless they ate animals raw that was. But Stiles wasn't sure if werewolves actually did that. Sure, he had joked about it with Scott but hadn't really seen any signs of it being true. Perhaps he should ask Derek about it.

"So, why is it that you wear that hoodie? You have to understand how funny that is," Erica suddenly said, pulling Stiles from his thoughts. He blinked stupidly, staring at her in confusion.

"What? What's wrong with my hoodie?" He looked down, pulling at the fabric as if that would tell him what Erica found so strange with it. Erica sighed patiently.

"It's red, Stiles."

Huh. That it was. Still, Stiles saw no reason to find that odd.

"So?"

Erica raised an eyebrow, as if to say that she couldn't believe that Stiles was being so thick. But he really had no idea what she was getting at.

"It's a _red hoodie_ and you spend time with wolves," Boyd pointed out, clearly taking pity on Stiles and his confusion. It was Stiles' time to raise an eyebrow.

"That's it? You want to make some reference to little red riding hood?" Stiles wasn't impressed but Erica snickered.

"Well, duh."

"That's just lame. Scott wears red hoodies too but you're not asking him about that, are you?" Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, looking suitably petulant and insulted.

"He can't be a wolf and little red riding hood at the same time," Erica pointed out.

"And I think that you're being mean. If I can't joke about dog whistles then you can't joke about little red riding hoods."

And that was mostly because Stiles didn't want to imagine who would be the big bad wolf. Because his thoughts immediately went to Derek and with that the fairytale took on a rather different tone. A very indecent one. And that was just not very likely to happen. So no, Stiles was not going there. He was not little red riding hood just because he wore a red hoodie and ran with wolves.

Scott chose that moment to come shuffling back into the living room, looking droopy and sad like a kicked puppy. Probably because Allison had left. Stiles gave his best friend a sympathetic look and an encouraging pat on the shoulder when Scott flopped down next to Stiles.

"You guys okay?" Scott asked, ever caring and kind. Stiles knew that it wasn't directed at him and Isaac was, not entirely surprisingly, the first to reply.

"We manage," Isaac shrugged but the smile he gave was a little wobbly on the edges.

"We're not going to run this time." Erica sounded fierce and determined, looking every inch of the gorgeous, lethal she-wolf that she was. Boyd took her hand and nodded his assent. Not that Stiles or Scott thought that they would but it was nice to have it said, Stiles could admit that. And it probably did a lot for Erica and Boyd's confidence too. It was a promise they obviously intended to keep and no one in the room questioned it.

"Hey, you guys want to stay for a movie or something?" Scott asked with such honesty and innocence that Stiles couldn't understand how _anyone_ would be able to say no. Least of all three people who seemed to be looking for company and reassurance.

Like he suspected all three betas agreed, Isaac even stretching as far as giving a rare, wide smile that could power a small city with its brilliance. Stiles was secretly a little jealous of Isaac's sudden bursts of cuteness. It made it so difficult to dislike him, even if he was a little unstable at times.

While movie-watching might not be the responsible thing to do Stiles agreed with Scott and felt that they deserved at least one night to act like normal teenagers again. And considering the fact that Mrs. McCall was out of the house they could make as much noise as they wanted without having to feel bad about it. It was pretty ideal.

Stiles still remembered to be responsible and borrowed Scott's phone to call his dad at the hospital and let him know what was going on. He gave a detailed run-through of what had been decided while Scott and the others raided the fridge and cabinets for something they could snack on. Surprisingly enough the news about their improvised movie night was what pleased his dad the most. He seemed to agree that it was high time for them to be kids again, if only for one night.

Stiles said goodbye and goodnight to his dad with a smile on his lips. After that he was swiftly – and brutally – pulled down onto a pile of pillows and cushions that Erica had arranged on the floor, his head coming to rest against her shoulder. He didn't mind that one bit. She was warm and soft and Boyd was close by, not touching Stiles but remaining a firm, comforting presence throughout the movie. Isaac lay sprawled over the couch while Scott sat in front of it, occasionally throwing popcorns at Stiles or Isaac with a dorky grin. None of them forgot about the worries that were hanging above their heads – that much was obvious – but they could at least prioritize something else that night. And Stiles loved it. All of it.

Which was probably why he fell asleep even before the first movie had ended. He had no idea how that happened because with his energy he could usually stay up as late as he wanted, but perhaps it was a combination of the stress, the exhausting threats and feeling utterly and completely safe for the first time in a long while. He was ready to drop and now – when he finally managed to relax – he was out like a light, head pillowed on Erica's shoulder.

Stiles wasn't sure if he imagined it or not but he was pretty certain that Erica ran a soothing hand over his head while Scott whispered something about letting him rest for now, just before he slipped off into a dreamless sleep. He felt absolutely awesome either way.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some plotty bits and adorableness. I feel so bad about what these poor teenagers are put through so I decided to give them at least one night to relax. They definitely deserve it.
> 
> Just one more chapter left on this part! You'll be getting that AND the first chapter for part three next Friday, so definitely stay tuned for that ;)  
> Part three is going to be intense! Just you wait, my lovelies!
> 
> Another thank you to my beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum), for her tireless efforts of keeping me on the right keel when it comes to this monster x'D


	15. Pancakes

 

* * *

 

Stiles woke with a start and it wasn't until his eyes managed to focus on Scott's apologetic face that he realized that it hadn't been of his own volition.

"Hey, sorry..." Scott murmured, voice considerately low. "It's just that we need to head out and I should probably drop you off at the hospital before that."

Stiles yawned and rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm, nodding jerkily. Scott's hand rested lightly on his shoulder – the unwounded one, thankfully enough – and Stiles got a quick pat before Scott straightened and headed off to God knows where.

Stiles gave himself another couple of moments before forcing himself into sitting position with a pained groan. He was still lying on the piles of pillows and cushions but most of them seemed to have ended up being squished or pushed to the side, which would explain the slight ache in his back. That hadn't been the most comfortable surface to sleep on. Still, he couldn't complain, especially not when he turned towards the couch and received a bright smile from Erica, who sat there munching on an apple.

"Everyone awake already?" Stiles asked blearily, not used to being the least conscious person in the room.

"Yup. We thought we'd let you rest for as long as possible," Erica replied with a fond little smile. "Besides, Scott's mom is asleep upstairs so we figured that we'd be quiet."

"Oh... okay." Stiles didn't really know what else to say. He wasn't completely functional just yet.

The betas were obviously ready to go and since Stiles had fallen asleep in his clothes from the previous evening he didn't exactly have to do anything before he was too. The only difference being that he borrowed a pair of Scott's shoes in order to get rid of his blood-soiled ones.

It still felt odd being on the other end of getting shooed out the door but Stiles was too sleepy to protest. He got in the car on autopilot, yawning widely, while Erica, Boyd and Isaac somehow squeezed into the backseat of the McCall car. Stiles was quite impressed.

He sharpened up during the drive to the hospital and by the time Scott pulled over by the entrance all five of them were engaged in a heated discussion about the movie they had seen last night. Never mind that Stiles hadn't seen the entirety of it.

Stiles climbed out of the car, feeling rather sad to have to do so. He was really beginning to enjoy spending time with the pack and it sucked pretty bad that he couldn't come with them to the woods. Granted that he would probably get himself eaten before he ever managed to do something productive but being isolated from them – especially considering his broken phone – was quite disheartening.

Scott seemed to sense this to some degree and gave Stiles an encouraging smile.

"I'm sure that Lydia and Danny won't mind coming here and keeping you company," Scott offered with a small shrug.

"It's okay, Scott. We'll see if I can't occupy myself on my own. You be good and keep each other safe," Stiles replied with a grin before giving the baby betas a wave and limping towards the entrance to the hospital. He did throw one last glance over his shoulder though and was rewarded with a kiss Erica blew his way. Stiles laughed as he stepped into the hospital.

His chest felt lighter than it had in days, which was a bit odd. He should have felt _worse_ if anything, considering what would happen at the full moon unless they managed to catch the rival pack. Perhaps it was the camaraderie he got to share with the rest of the pack that kept his hopes up. Because he didn't even feel half as worried as he should have, for some reason.

Whatever was going on with Derek was still a nagging doubt at the back of his mind but he didn't know what to do about it. He didn't know if there was anything he _could_ do about it. Flat out asking was definitely out of the question because Derek never handled that very well but guessing wasn't cutting it either. There was _something_ there. Stiles just didn't know what. And Derek just kept on confusing him.

Stiles' life sucked.

It turned out that it sucked even more when Stiles navigated through the hospital corridors, greeting nurses and doctors alike, only to find Peter Hale lounging next to the door leading into his dad's hospital room. Stiles' first instinct was to go for his backpack, which he belatedly realized that he didn't have. Because he had decided that it was better for his dad to keep the gun while he was off with the pack. Damnit.

Not that Peter looked very threatening but Stiles would have felt safer if he had had some means to defend himself. There was something awfully wrong with Peter Hale and Stiles had no intention of letting his guard down just because he seemed friendly and harmless. Stiles was pretty certain that he wasn't.

"Stiles! I was hoping to find you here," Peter exclaimed happily, as if they were long time friends. Stiles wanted to throw a chair at his face.

"Right. What do you want?" Stiles didn't even feel guilty about sounding short and hostile. He didn't have very good experiences with Peter Hale and he was still quite pissed over what Peter had done to Lydia.

"Come now, Stiles, don't be like that," Peter admonished with a patient smile. Stiles raised an eyebrow while Peter pushed off from the wall he had been leaning against, turning towards Stiles with a calm and gentle smile. He still looked like a deranged serial killer and perhaps that was an impressive skill to have but Stiles wasn't exactly calmed by it. "I just came to talk."

"Talk?"

"Yes, talk. Peacefully."

"Peacefully?" Stiles' voice was drenched in sarcasm. There wasn't a peaceful bone in Peter's body.

"My nephew has apparently had a very bad influence over you, Stiles. I don't remember you being this difficult to talk to." Peter tilted his head to the side, looking a little disappointed.

"Well I'm sorry if I don't enjoy talking to a murdering psychopath," Stiles sneered. He tensed when Peter took a casual step towards him but since there was no sign of danger Stiles decided to hold his ground for now. Peter couldn't possibly imagine that he would get away with any kind of violence. Then again, the psychological pressure was quite enough on its own.

"They actually say that people who find serial killers fascinating are more interesting conversationalists."

"I think there's a subtle difference when it's the serial killer himself who wants to talk to you," Stiles pointed out snappily.

"But think of what a wonderful opportunity it is! All the things I could tell you."

"No, thank you. I prefer to be able to sleep at night," Stiles replied, feeling somewhat nauseated.

Peter gave a soft sigh, as if he was saddened by Stiles' negative attitude. Stiles felt that his attitude was completely justified. The man had lost most of his marbles.

"Honestly, Stiles, I'm not here to argue." Peter held out his hands in the universal gesture of meaning no harm. Stiles wasn't convinced but tried to push back at least some of his aversion towards the man. If Peter truly was dangerous Derek would probably have chased him off or killed him by now.

"Then what do you want?" Stiles held back his hostility but still sounded suspicious.

"I already told you – I want to talk."

"About what?"

Peter shrugged with a pleasant, carefree smile.

"Whatever you want."

Stiles frowned.

"What the heck are you up to?" It made no sense for Peter to come and find Stiles and then ask to talk about whatever Stiles wanted. Or perhaps it did when you were a resurrected werewolf but it sure as hell didn't to Stiles.

"Did you know that this upcoming full moon is sometimes called the thunder moon? It's because of the frequent thunder storms that appear this time of year." Peter was clearly ignoring Stiles' question and Stiles didn't know whether to be afraid, annoyed or just exasperated.

"Okay, you just keep riding that crazy train of yours while I go see my dad. Which is what _I_ came here to do."

Stiles held up his hands and made a move towards the door. Peter took a step to the side though, blocking his way and Stiles couldn't help that he recoiled backwards, away from the crazy werewolf. Peter didn't look angry or upset in any way – he was actually smiling rather calmly – but he apparently had something more to say.

Stiles debated whether punching him in the face would be a good idea or not.

"And I also want to compliment you on your recent accomplishments," Peter said, voice gentle and almost soothing. "Helping unite the pack, dealing with the hunters and now the plans for the upcoming full moon. You are doing quite well, Stiles."

Stiles didn't know whether to feel grateful or suspicious. While it was nice to know that he was appreciated he wasn't quite sure if he liked hearing it from Peter Hale. Everything he said left Stiles feeling vaguely violated for some reason.

"Uh… thanks. I guess."

"You are most welcome." Peter was still smiling. "Allow me to offer some words of advice."

Stiles didn't really know what to expect but before he had time to really consider the possible risks his curiosity got the better of him and he was nodding for Peter to continue. Peter might be a couple of fries short of a happy meal but he did hold quite a lot of knowledge, Stiles was sure of that.

"While your plans to guard the town are quite impressive you should consider some offensive strategies as well," Peter began, sounding as whimsical and light as usual but there was something in his eyes that suggested that he might be more serious now. "You see, right now I imagine that this other pack is quite easy to rattle, which was why their alpha suddenly approached and stated her conditions. They see the urgency to get things over with as soon as possible."

"Because two of them got killed."

"Yes, very good. The loss of a pack member is always felt within the pack, no matter if it is one cemented by love or fear. As far as I've heard this pack has terrorized everyone in their path but never lost one of their own – until now. This is new to them and change is always a stressor to a group this violent. They are no longer invincible."

Stiles put his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, trying not to show his surprise over the fact that Peter was actually making sense. But then again, madness did not exclude brilliance – sometimes it was quite the opposite even.

"So what do you suggest?" Stiles asked.

"Well, I understand that there are certain limitations to what can be done but I suggest that you do exactly what they tried to do to us."

"Divide and conquer?" Stiles couldn't help sounding somewhat amused – and doubting. "We don't exactly have means to contact or find them. It's difficult to divide them without that."

"Division isn't always accomplished by attacking the other party," Peter replied cryptically, but Stiles was pretty certain that he knew that he was aiming for.

"So you're telling us to stand united and strong and that will scare them." Stiles rolled his eyes. Everyone seemed to think that the magical solution to everything was to hold hands and expect the power of love to repel all evil.

Peter huffed and pouted – in lack of better words to describe the expression on his face.

"There's no need to sound condescending. To signal that you are fearless and determined is a very effective way to show strength. Especially now when they are clearly doing their best to scare you. If you refuse to give up they'll get nervous."

"We've already agreed not to surrender," Stiles pointed out, not sure if Peter had been informed of that. Peter didn't seem surprised though so Stiles assumed that he had. Or perhaps he had just guessed – it was difficult to tell.

"Of course you've decided not to surrender but now you have to stick by that as well. That's the difficult part, mind you," Peter replied with a small wave of his hand. "You might be confident now but how will you feel closer to the full moon?"

Stiles gritted his teeth.

"Is this supposed to help? Because it isn't."

"My bad." Peter placed a hand over his chest, as if to show how regretful he was. "I'm just asking if you think that you'll be able to remain as unaffected when we draw closer to the deadline?"

Stiles forced back his impulse to snarl something insulting and defensive.

"Of course I won't," he replied instead, because he knew that it was the truth and that Peter would call him out on any lie he tried to tell in its stead. "But that doesn't mean that I'll give up."

"Show them no fear, right?" Peter suggested while taking a step closer. A step that together with his words seemed rather threatening. Stiles was fairly certain that Peter was just trying to prove a point though and therefore remained where he was, even when Peter inched closer – a little too close perhaps.

"I don't know about that. I'm just not going to give up," Stiles replied, voice stronger than expected.

"Oh? Does that concern everything?"

Stiles frowned softly.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, let's just say that there might be others who will have their doubts before this is over. Someone who might react prematurely and make bad decisions based on previous experiences and insecurities," Peter replied with a soft little shrug but his gaze was intense. Stiles swallowed.

"You mean-...?" He hesitated but Peter nodded even without Stiles having to finish the sentence.

Which might be a bad thing because Stiles' thoughts had immediately gone to Derek but he couldn't be entirely sure if that was what Peter meant. But no one else really had the authority to make decisions in their pack and he couldn't figure out why Peter would bother trying to look after anyone else.

Peter might be a freak but Derek was the one he was closest to – the one he was supposed to be related to and care about. Or alternatively the alpha that needed to survive in order for Peter to avoid getting himself killed. Stiles was pretty certain that not even the she-alpha wanted Peter in her pack so if she took over Peter might very well find himself dead or chased off. Either way it seemed that Peter might be talking about Derek.

Stiles' chest felt tight.

"Yes. Quite so. All I'm asking is that you keep your eyes open for... signs. I know that you are very good at that, Stiles, and we can't stumble on the finish line, can we?"

Stiles shook his head. It made him worried that Peter even brought it up. Would Derek change his mind? Surely he wouldn't. That would mean that Derek had to die and that was just ridiculous. Derek's survival instinct was almost legendary at that point. Almost nothing could kill Derek and he surely wouldn't _choose_ to die. Nope. Derek wouldn't do that. Not even if they failed and the other werewolves came for Stiles.

"You promise to stop anyone from giving up?" Even if Peter said 'anyone' Stiles sort of knew that what he really meant was 'Derek'. The way Peter stared at him gave it away.

"Yeah, I promise," Stiles replied without hesitation.

"Good boy." Peter smiled and when he reached out a hand as if to touch Stiles didn't even feel ashamed about pulling back, out of reach.

"Oh no. Keep the wolfy paws away from me," Stiles warned. Peter only chuckled.

"Well, that depends on whose wolfy paws it is, am I right?" Peter teased back and Stiles really, _really_ wanted to lamp him one. Out of embarrassment, but still. Peter didn't seem to elaborate however.

"Why is it that whenever I turn my back you are off harassing teenagers?" a dry, unimpressed voice deadpanned.

Stiles looked over his shoulder, both a little surprised and relieved to see Derek standing there with a slightly disapproving look on his face. The alpha didn't seem angry per se but definitely a little frustrated – and perhaps even a little tired. Stiles hoped that it didn't show on his face what they had been talking about. Then again, Derek must have heard most of it and suddenly it became quite clear why Peter hadn't mentioned any names. He must have noticed that Derek was close by. That was one sneaky ex-alpha.

"You tell me. It seems that it runs in the family," Peter replied with a shrug and a playful smile.

Derek raised an eyebrow but didn't seem to want to comment on Peter's obvious hint.

"Are you done?" The alpha sounded more than a little snappy.

"With the harassment? Yes, I would say so. Do you feel sufficiently harassed?" Peter asked Stiles with a pleasant little smile.

"Yup. Sure do," Stiles replied without missing a beat. "You are truly gifted."

"Why thank you, Stiles. I try."

Derek rolled his eyes but didn't have to say anything further before Peter took his leave, after a smile and a somewhat teasing nod in Derek's direction of course. Stiles was a little surprised because he was certain that Peter would linger just to annoy the alpha but Peter had apparently finished whatever he came there to do. If it wasn't for the fact that Stiles was pretty glad to see Peter leave he might even have asked about it.

Questions were buzzing around inside his head – questions raised by Peter's cryptic words – but Stiles knew that he couldn't ask about them. Derek would just freak out. Or ignore him. No, he would wait and observe, just in case something happened. Stiles was pretty certain that Peter had dropped by only to spook him but Stiles couldn't deny that he felt worried. At least a little. He didn't want Derek to die.

Stiles pushed those thoughts aside and looked at said alpha instead.

"Not to sound rude here-" Derek gave Stiles a look as if to say that Stiles was always rude, no matter if he tried or not, which Stiles chose to ignore"-but shouldn't you be out in the woods with the rest?"'

"I had other business to take care of. They can manage an hour on their own."

Stiles wanted to ask what business Derek could possibly have that early in the morning but knew better than to actually voice it. Derek wouldn't tell him anyway.

"You sure? You're not afraid that they'll stumble off a cliff in your absence?" Stiles chose to ask instead, mainly to tease but also because there was a grain of truth in it. Derek was a control freak.

"They'll heal," was all Derek replied, tone flat and void of emotions. Stiles couldn't help snorting from amusement. He was growing alarmingly fond of Derek's blunt sense of humor.

"So you came here to rein in your runaway uncle?"

Derek lifted his shoulders in what could have been a shrug but didn't answer verbally. What he did do though was to turn subtly and nod back towards the way he had come, as if he wanted Stiles to follow. And Stiles felt that he might be getting a little _too_ good at reading Derek's body language.

"But my dad-" Stiles began, pointing with his thumb towards his dad's hospital room, as if to explain why he hadn't made a move to follow Derek yet. The scary thing being that he almost had, on pure reflex.

"Is still asleep," Derek interrupted. "Unless you want to wake him up of course?"

Derek had to know that Stiles wouldn't do that. His dad needed as much rest as he could get. There was a brief moment where Stiles wondered if Derek was lying to him to make him agree but he couldn't figure out why the alpha would do that. Or what he would gain by it.

So he just shrugged and followed Derek after a quick glance at his dad's door, as if that would be enough to confirm that it was okay to leave. It wasn't as if Stiles had much else planned that morning.

Derek kept a slightly faster pace than he had the day before but not enough to cause Stiles too much discomfort. His ankle was getting better. He couldn't hide his confusion when Derek seemed to take him towards the cafeteria though. Stiles hadn't known what Derek wanted but this was if possible even less expected than whatever he had imagined.

"Uh... what?" he asked, mouth hanging open a little in confusion.

"You haven't eaten breakfast," Derek said. No, _stated_. As if it would explain everything.

"Okay, ignoring the creep-factor of that statement and the fact that you know whether I've eaten or not – _what_? That doesn't make any sense."

Derek pressed his lips together into a thin line and glared.

"Food, Stiles. Now shut up."

Stiles was so confused that he didn't even protest when he was herded forwards by Derek's hand, placed firmly against his back. It wasn't until he was seated opposite to Derek with a tray of food in front of himself that Stiles managed to regain his ability to speak.

" _Dude_. Did you just buy me breakfast?" Because Stiles sure hadn't paid. Derek raised an eyebrow but seemed more interested in his food than Stiles' minor freak out. "No, wait. You bought me _pancakes_. Who does that?"

"You don't like pancakes?" Derek sounded bored and didn't even look up from his own serving of pancakes. He was definitely too calm about this.

"Wha-? That's not what I meant!" Stiles spluttered.

Derek gave him an annoyed glare, kind of like a wolf that was interrupted in the middle of a meal, and Stiles shut his mouth if only to keep himself from saying so out loud. Derek would kill him if he did.

"Shut up. Eat," Derek growled.

Stiles was really beginning to take offence to Derek's habit of always telling him to shut up. But, then again, it was becoming less and less effective each time he did. The words would soon lose their meaning entirely.

Still, Stiles remained quiet this time, if only because he got distracted by watching Derek eat. It wasn't special in any way, it was just that he had never seen it before and he couldn't believe that of all things to choose from Derek was eating _pancakes_. And even seemed to enjoy it. Stiles didn't really know what to think about that but he found himself staring as if it was some kind of fascinating discovery.

But perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised. Derek was quite intriguing, even when he hadn't seemed to be much more than a stereotypical tall, dark and handsome supernatural creature. And now, when Stiles started glimpsing odd little quirks and an actual personality, everything seemed so much more interesting. So yeah, Stiles might have been staring. Excessively.

"I will stab you in the neck with my fork if I have to," Derek said suddenly, voice calm and matter-of-factly.

Stiles jumped in his chair and blinked a couple of times, meeting Derek's gaze when the alpha looked up.

"Stop staring." Derek frowned softly. "And do you ever shut your mouth?"

"Hey! I was quiet just now!" Stiles protested, clearly offended. Derek rolled his eyes while cutting off the edge of a pancake with the side of his fork.

"Not like that. I mean literally close your mouth."

Stiles stared in incomprehension until he realized that yes, his mouth _was_ hanging open, if only a little. He quickly shut it, feeling a little embarrassed for some reason.

"What's it to you?" Stiles questioned in lack of better answers.

Derek gave him a blank look before returning to his food. Stiles wasn't sure how to respond to that but he knew better than to start staring again, and he actually was quite hungry. It still felt odd to sit there opposite to Derek and _eat_. Food Derek had bought him no less.

It was almost like a date.

Stiles fumbled with his fork and prayed to whatever deity that might be listening that he wasn't blushing. That was so not what he needed to think about right in that moment. It wasn't a date. Of course it wasn't. First of all because a hospital cafeteria was a really sucky place for a date – never mind that it was probably fine in Derek's book because Derek was socially inept – and second because it was him and Derek. That was so not happening.

There was no denying that Derek was being rather considerate by feeding him though. But that didn't mean that there was anything else to read into. Derek bought him food. Nothing else. It didn't mean anything. Stiles repeated this to himself until he felt calm enough to continue eating.

The cafeteria barely had any other patrons except for an old lady over by one corner and a sleepy young couple who seemed just about ready to slump over the table between them, so it was actually a rather calm and soothing breakfast. Stiles liked it.

"Here."

Stiles looked up with his fork halfway to his mouth, finding that Derek was already done – and Stiles tried really hard not to make a joke about someone wolfing down his food – but his attention was soon caught by the phone Derek pushed over the table. Stiles frowned.

"What?"

He didn't get it.

It wasn't Derek's phone, Stiles had used it enough times to recognize it on the small nick at the top right corner, so Stiles had no idea what he was expected to do with it. This one looked brand new.

"It's a phone," Derek clarified, like the idiot that he sometimes was.

"I can see that."

Derek's impatience was tangible in the air.

"Take it."

Stiles blinked stupidly while he lowered his fork. He stared at the phone, then back up at Derek.

"It's for me?"

"Yes." Derek sounded pissed. Probably because he was forced to say it out loud or something. He seemed to be allergic to admitting to any good deeds.

Stiles gaped uselessly for a moment or two before he managed to find his voice.

"But-... you..."

"I said that I would," Derek replied with a casual shrug and a finality that booked no room for argument, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to buy a new phone for Stiles.

"Yeah, I know, but people usually don't follow through." Stiles felt both confused and a little humbled. He didn't receive expensive gifts very often.

"Besides, the rest of the pack is going nuts," Derek said dryly. "They need to be able to contact you."

Stiles couldn't help that he barked out a laugh at that. He could imagine that both Erica and Scott were quite insufferable when they couldn't text him like they usually did. He glanced at Derek before looking down at the phone again. It seemed to be a slightly newer model than his old one.

His upbringing told him to protest and give it back but he couldn't deny that he felt both a little greedy and pleased to have Derek give him something. Not to mention that Derek had a point. The pack needed to be able to contact him.

The practical argument was what won out in the end and he picked the phone from the table with a wide, grateful smile. He put it in one of the pockets of his hoodie, just to show that he intended to keep it.

"Thanks."

He knew better than to gush or question it further. It would just make Derek awkward and Stiles honestly didn't want that – not right now – so a sincere thank you would have to do. The fact that Derek looked to be struggling to hold back a smile of his own was the best thing Stiles had seen in ages.

Stiles returned to his food before Derek had time to punch him for looking like a dork, but the smile just wouldn't fade. It was still there when he eventually finished off the last of his pancakes. He couldn't believe that Derek had given him a new phone.

Stiles took a sip from his glass of juice before kicking out under the table, hitting Derek's shin to catch the alpha's attention. Derek had been staring out the window in silence the last couple of minutes but Stiles was itching for a conversation.

The alpha didn't react much to the kick – Stiles doubted that something that pathetic would hurt a werewolf – but he didn't look pleased to have been disturbed. Or perhaps it was the kick. Stiles couldn't be sure. Derek glared at Stiles with a raised eyebrow, which, was usual, was an order for Stiles to explain why he felt it necessary to remind the alpha of his existence this time.

"How are things with the pups?"

Derek seemed torn between slapping Stiles for kicking him and snapping for calling the betas pups. In the end the alpha must have accepted that it was just Stiles being Stiles and rolled his eyes.

"Fine."

That wasn't a very detailed or satisfying answer.

"Okay, thank you for that incredibly enlightening and heartfelt reply." Stiles couldn't help that the good old sarcasm made an appearance. Derek gave him a level look that Stiles, as always, ignored. "You know that it's important," Stiles defended. "Everybody keeps telling me that we need to stick together in order to win this and I'm all for that. But I know that it won't be easy."

Stiles almost wanted to remind Derek that the alpha had promised to trust Stiles and that sharing important information was a part of that. He was afraid of pushing too much too soon though and therefore held back that particular argument.

Derek looked just about ready to protest for a moment or two until he must have remembered something that made him less reluctant. Derek's frown smoothed out but he still looked grumpy. That was, on the other hand, one of his standard expressions.

"They're getting better." Derek was back to looking out the window when he said it. "They obey."

"Yeah, I noticed that." Stiles scratched his cheek. "So how are they paired up? Out in the woods, I mean."

Derek seemed confused by the question and gave Stiles a doubtful look, as if he couldn't understand why Stiles would care about that. Stiles cared about that very much.

"Why?"

Stiles sighed impatiently.

"Okay, fine, don't tell me. But can I at least give some suggestions?" he asked imploringly, trying to look as trustworthy as he possibly could. That was a rather difficult trait to convey though so he wasn't too sure of his success.

"You will even if I say no," Derek replied with a snort.

"I will take that as a yes."

"Of course you will."

Stiles gave Derek an offended glare. He couldn't remember that the alpha had ever been this quick with his retorts before – and looked so smug while giving them. It was almost adorable though, in some strange kind of way. Stiles cleared his throat.

"First off, Scott should go with Isaac. They work well as a team and would fight hard to keep each other safe. Scott would lead but Isaac isn't afraid to question him when necessary." Stiles clapped his hands together once. "Bam. Perfect."

Derek didn't argue so Stiles took that as approval.

"And Jackson? We both know he's the trickiest," Derek asked to Stiles' surprise. The alpha usually didn't meet Stiles halfway like this, but it was nice to know that Derek paid attention too and knew his pack well enough to see who might cause trouble.

"With Boyd," Stiles replied without hesitation. "Erica might be a possibility too but I think that she would just try to piss him off or disobey because she thinks that it's funny."

"But Boyd would remain calm and not be pushed around, even if he would let Jackson lead," Derek said with a small nod.

"Exactly. And Jackson needs that – he needs at least a small amount of control. I think it makes him perform better and be more responsible. Not to mention that he's afraid of _being_ controlled."

Derek didn't protest this either but soon gave a lopsided smile that Stiles had never really seen before. Probably because he wasn't sure if he had ever seen Derek smile in any other way than those condescending, cocky ones he usually gave when people were being idiots. Or that fake one he had used to divert the attention of that deputy when they had to sneak into the station to find Isaac.

"And I get Erica."

Stiles laughed and kicked Derek's shin again.

"Dude. Come on. Don't tell me that you can't handle the she-wolf?"

Derek frowned.

"Don't call me dude. And stop kicking me." Derek leaned back and looked under their table, as if glaring at Stiles' feet would make him stop. "What are you? Six?"

Stiles just laughed while fiddling with his fork.

"Come on. You need to learn how to have some fun."

Derek didn't seem impressed.

"I know how to have fun – and having someone kick me is not it."

"Okay, fine," Stiles relented with a grin. "Then what _do_ you do for fun?" He was actually pretty curious, which was why he became rather disappointed when Derek did nothing but shrug. "Come oooon! Just give me something! It can't be that difficult. I dare you."

Derek's frown returned.

"Once again – are you six? I don't care if you dare me to do anything."

Derek was such a spoilsport. But Stiles guessed that he could understand it this time. The alpha might be younger than he looked and acted but he wasn't stupid enough to fall for a juvenile dare like that.

"Then how about this? I promise to be quiet for a whole of ten minutes if you answer my question."

Derek raised a dubious eyebrow.

"Are you sure that you'd be able to keep that promise?" There was a teasing hint hidden amongst all the doubt. Stiles would have taken offence if it hadn't been a legitimate question.

"I promise to be quiet if you give me a _real_ answer. Not just some bullshit about long nature walks in the dark or something." Stiles held Derek's gaze, looking far more serious than the situation demanded. "Deal?"

The alpha seemed to consider the offer for a while before he shrugged, but Stiles chose to see that as a yes.

"So gimme! Tell me something about something you do for fun."

Derek remained silent for a while, as if he was considering what to choose or how to phrase his reply, and when he finally looked up there was a devilish glint in his eyes. Stiles was either going to enjoy this immensely or regret it with a passion.

"I miss my 360. I left it in New York."

Stiles wasn't sure if he had heard that correctly but the look on Derek's face was too satisfied to suggest anything else. Derek Sourwolf Hale just declared that he owned an Xbox.

" _What_? You play video gam-" which was as far as Stiles got before Derek held up a threatening finger.

"You promised."

Stiles shut his mouth so hard his teeth clacked. God he hated Derek. It was incredibly mean to drop that kind of knowledge and then expect Stiles to be able to keep his promise to be quiet. Thousands of questions were bubbling inside him – like whether Derek was actually lying just to tease Stiles but if he wasn't then what games did he prefer? This opened up an entirely new world to discuss and prod at and Stiles wasn't sure if he would be able to keep from poking at it. Vigorously. This was so cool and Derek was suddenly ten times more awesome and Stiles didn't know what to do with himself.

He still tried to be quiet though because he knew that Derek would tease him relentlessly otherwise. So it was clearly time to practice his self-control. That didn't keep him from vibrating with suppressed impulses and questions and he almost jumped up and down in his seat in frustration. It was pure torture.

And Derek seemed to enjoy it, the bastard, if the look on his face was anything to go by. He looked positively gleeful at Stiles' obvious suffering – as if it was prime time entertainment to watch Stiles struggle to be silent.

Stiles narrowed his eyes and kicked out under the table as punishment. This time Derek must have been prepared for it though because not only did the kick miss but Derek caught Stiles' foot between his own so that Stiles wasn't able to do it again. It was quite skillfully done and Stiles would have been impressed by how effective it was if it hadn't been because he was too surprised to react at all.

"No kicking either," Derek admonished and Stiles was honestly too shocked to try and pull his foot back. It wasn't his wounded one so it wasn't like it hurt. Stiles still stared, which Derek seemed to find rather amusing.

Once Derek was certain that Stiles wouldn't try to kick him again the pressure loosened and Stiles felt his heel thump against the floor. His foot was still tangled with Derek's though and Stiles waited for the alpha to kick it away or retract his own. Derek didn't. Stiles' heart was suddenly beating a lot faster than usual and something seemed to tickle inside his chest.

Derek gave him a look. A calm, blank look that didn't say much in itself but the fact that it didn't judge or disapprove had to mean something. Derek didn't seem bothered by the fact that neither of them pulled away. Neither of them moved at all, as a matter of fact.

It was suddenly a little difficult to breathe and Stiles was pretty certain that he was inches from blushing, if he wasn't doing it already. His entire body felt tingly all over and he would have squirmed but felt too afraid to break whatever spell that allowed him to have this.

The silence was actually rather soothing at that point and Stiles was secretly glad that he didn't have to talk. He knew that he would just question the position of their feet if he did. And he knew that it would ruin it. Derek would pull back if he did. So he kept quiet, reveling in it instead.

Derek didn't say anything either.

Derek placed his elbows against the table and turned his head back towards the window, gazing at the boring view outside without another word. Stiles tried not to stare. He had no idea what was going on but it felt great and this all-consuming happiness was bubbling inside of him and he just didn't know what to do about it.

In the end he just pushed his empty food tray aside until he could fold his arms on top of the table, leaning his chin against them and following Derek's example of looking out the window in silence. A peaceful smile lingered on his lips and Stiles found that he was happier than he thought possible, sitting there opposite to Derek with their feet tangled underneath the table. This feeling was definitely worth all the suffering he had been through the last couple of months.

Stiles hid his grin against his folded arms and when he bumped his foot against Derek's, just a little, he was pretty certain that he wasn't imagining the short but still obvious pressure he received in return. Stiles bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling too widely but nothing seemed able to hold it back. He was just so darn happy and his chest was tight from eagerness and sheer joy and he was pretty certain that his hands were shaking just a little but it was all good. It was perfect, in fact.

Yeah, this was definitely worth it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of the second part, folks!  
> I wanted to end things on a more hopeful note, since trust me when I say that the third and final part won't be for the faint hearted ;) Also, playing footise is just cute. Period.  
> And yeah, I just decided that Derek plays videogames. Because why the hell not? He must have done something for fun back in New York.
> 
> The first chapter of the third part is already up!
> 
> A HUGE thanks to my beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) for her support and help, [Citruspocket](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Citruspocket/pseuds/Citruspocket) for her tireless comments and encouragement and also to [Kimchisan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kimchisan/pseuds/kimchisan) for being another awesome person I met through this fanfic. You make it worthwhile, all of you.  
> Thank you for reading, commenting, subscribing and all the kudos! I am so happy that you guys like what I'm doing!
> 
> As always you can find me over at my [Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/) if you have any questions!


End file.
